CHAPTER XXIV

THE THANKSGIVING MASQUE

Of course, both Jennie and Nancy could swim; but swimming with one's clothes on, from the middle of Clinton River to the sh.o.r.e, would be no small feat.

And there wasn't time to throw off much of their clothing, for the skiff was sinking under them. Once the bunch of rags had been forced out of the hole where the plug had been, the water spurted in like a miniature fountain.

The boat began to swing in the current, too. They had both drawn their oars inboard and the craft drifted at the mercy of the river.

"What _shall_ we do?" gasped Jennie, again. "We're go-ing-right-do-own!"

"Not yet!" cried her chum, tearing off the little coat she wore.

In a moment Nancy doubled up the sleeve and thrust it into the hole in the bottom of the boat. She forced it in tightly, and as it became wet and more plastic, she rammed it home hard.

"But that won't last long," objected Jennie.

"The water'll force it out again. And what will we do with the water that is already in here?"

Indeed, the girls were barely out of the wash of the water, and their feet and ankles were soaking wet.

They dared not move suddenly, either; the gunwales of the boat were so low that, if it pitched at all, the river would flow over the sides.

"Why! it will sink any minute and leave us sitting here in the water!"

groaned Jennie, again.

"Take off one of your shoes--careful, now," commanded Nancy. "We can bail with them," putting into practice her own advice.

They managed each to remove one of the low, rubber-soled shoes they wore. But these took up so small an amount of water, although they bailed vigorously, that Jennie began to chuckle:

"Might as well try to dip the sea out with a pail, Nance! What a ridiculous position we're in!"

But it was really more serious than that. It was fast growing dark, and no matter how loudly they shouted, their voices would not reach to the landing. The wind was against them.

On the other side of Clinton River, opposite the scene of their accident, were open fields and woods. Few people lived within sight; indeed, only two twinkling lights from house windows could they now see on that side, and both of those were far away.

"Do you suppose we could slip overboard without swamping the boat, and so lighten it?" demanded Nancy.

"What good would that do?"

"Then it wouldn't sink and we could cling to the gunwales. It would keep us afloat."

"Oh, that plug's come out!" gasped Jennie.

It had. Nancy stooped and forced the cloth into the hole again; but her motion rocked the boat dangerously. A ripple came along and lapped right in, and the girls were almost waist deep!

"Oh, dear me!" wailed Jennie. "We might just as well be drowned as be like this. We _are_ drowned from our waists down."

"Nev--er--say--die!" gasped Nancy, struggling with the jacket-sleeve to make it stay in the hole.

"We've got to get out!" cried Jennie. "This is where we get off--even if it _is_ a wet landing. If we're out of the boat, it will only sink so that the gunwales are level with the water. Isn't that so?"

"I believe so," admitted Nancy.

"Then out we go," said Jennie, working her way toward the bow.

"What you going to do?"

"Lighten the boat. You slide out over the stern. We've got to do it, Nance."

"I guess that's so," admitted her chum. "Do be careful, Jennie. And if the boat _does_ sink, don't lose your head. We can swim."

"Well, I can't swim to sh.o.r.e in all these clothes. I wish I had loosened my skirts at the start. Oh, dear!"

The daylight had drifted out of the sky and there was no moon. The stars shone palely and it seemed as though a mist had suddenly been drawn over the surface of the river.

The lights of the steamboat had long since disappeared around the bend.

There didn't seem to be another pleasure boat on the river this evening.

And yet there must have been a lot of the girls out, somewhere.

Jennie and Nancy got their feet over the ends of the boat and slid carefully down into the water. Their skirts buoyed them up a bit; but they knew that once the garments were saturated, they would bear them down instead.

"Are--are you all--all right, Nance?" gasped Jennie, from the bow, as the water rose about her. "Oh, oh! Isn't it wet?"

"Cling to the boat, Jen!" begged Nancy, from the stern. "I--I don't believe it will sink."

And even as she spoke the skiff, lurching first one side and then the other, sank slowly down into the depths of the river.

Both girls screamed. They came together with a shock and clung to each other in something like panic. And, so struggling, both dipped under water for a moment.

But when they came up, Nancy held her chum off, and cried:

"Don't do that again, Jennie! If you have to dip, hold your nose. Let's not lose our heads about this. We've got to swim for it!"

"Swim!" gasped Jennie Bruce. "I feel as if there was a ton of lead around my legs. I can't kick any more than the mule could with his legs tied!"

"Get rid of the skirts," said Nancy, struggling to unfasten her own.

"You can do it--if you try. There! mine's gone."

"Oh, my--blub! blub! blub!" came from poor Jennie, as she went under.

Nancy reached and caught her by the hair. Both their caps had floated away. She dragged her chum to the surface and held her until she got her breath again.

Meanwhile Nancy was trying to undo the fastenings of Jennie's clothes; and she succeeded after a time.

"Oh, dear, me!" she gasped. "I never wished to be a boy so much before."