Fortunately there was no current to speak of, so there was little danger so long as they kept their heads above water.

But when the water reached their armpits and continued to rise, Shirley turned back.

"It's no use," she said.

CHAPTER IX.-SHIRLEY GETS BUSY.

"No," Mabel agreed, "it's no use. But what are we going to do now?"

"We'll have to wait, that's all," was the reply.

Shivering and cold, Mabel turned her face to the sky and the rain fell upon it.

"Wait here in this rain?" she demanded.

"What else is there to do?" asked Shirley. "I am just as anxious to get in as you are, and if you will suggest a plan we will act upon it."

"I haven't any plan," replied Mabel mournfully.

In spite of her discomfort, Shirley was forced to smile to herself. Her friend's tone amused her.

"I'm going to sit down," said Shirley, and suited the action to the word.

Mabel also sat down in the mud.

"We can't get any wetter nor any dirtier," said Shirley, "so we may as well make ourselves as comfortable as possible."

"How long do you suppose we shall have to stay here?"

"I haven't any idea. Perhaps all night."

"All night?"

"Yes. Of course, it is possible that Dad will have telephoned to town inquiring about us. If he called up the stable and learns that we have started, he may come looking for us. That's the only thing that will save us an all-night stay in the rain."

"But how would he get across the creek?"

"If Dad starts looking for me," said Shirley, "it will take more than this to stop him."

The two girls became silent, and huddled as close together as they could, for in their wet garments they were chilled to the bone, and the air was very cool, in spite of the season.

How long they sat there they did not know, but they jumped at the sound of a horse's hoofs on the opposite side of the stream.

"Who's there?" cried Shirley, rising to her feet and pulling her chum up after her.

"Is that you, Shirley?" came a shout.

"Dad!" cried Shirley. "Yes, Mabel and I are here."

"I'll be across in a jiffy," called the father.

"Be careful, Dad," called Shirley, "the water is very deep. We tried to get across and couldn't."

There was no reply from the opposite side, but a moment later the splashing of water gave evidence that a horse was floundering into it. A few minutes later, dripping wet, Mr. Willing pulled up in front of the two girls, who had advanced to the edge of the water to meet him.

He dismounted quickly, and caught Shirley in his arms.

"Where is Cato?" he asked.

In a few words Shirley explained.

"You are both soaked," exclaimed Mr. Willing. "You must get home to bed at once."

He turned to Shirley and would have lifted her to the saddle, but she protested.

"Take Mabel first," she said.

Mr. Willing knew his daughter, and therefore he did not question her decision. Without a word he turned to Mabel and lifted her gently to the saddle. Then he swung himself up in front of her.

The horse plunged again into the creek, and in a few moments Mabel was safe on the other side.

"Now you run to the house as quick as you can get there," said Mr.

Willing as he handed her down.

Mabel wasted no time, and set out for the house on a run, while Mr.

Willing turned his horse's face toward the stream, and went after his daughter.

The second trip was made without incident, and Shirley found herself being borne toward the house in her father's arms. Wet and bedraggled, she snuggled close to him, and though the trip to the house took but a few minutes, she was half asleep when he called to her to jump down.

"Go to bed at once," he commanded. "If you are not careful you will be sick. You are not strong enough for such experiences."

But Shirley must stop and kiss him first, and then she left him with a word of caution.

"I am just as strong as you are, Dad. You, too, are soaking. Mind, you change your clothes at once."

"Good night," said her father, and Shirley ran into the house. There, at the foot of the steps stood Mabel, waiting for her.

The two girls ran quickly to their room. Later, when Mr. Willing looked in to see them, they were sleeping soundly.

"Poor children," he said softly. "They have had a hard night. I shall let them sleep late to-morrow."

But Shirley and Mabel, in spite of the hardships of the night before, were up bright and early, and down in the kitchen talking to "Aunt"

Charlotte, the old colored cook, while she prepared breakfast.

Shortly after breakfast, Shirley, with an air of great importance, drew Mabel back to their room.