CHAPTER VIII

THE GOLF BALL

"Girl overboard!"

"Man overboard!"

"Back water there! Around with the boat!"

Thus came the cries from the big racing canoe. If the young men in it, through their eager desire for speed, had been the cause of the accident, they were at least willing and ready to do all they could to remedy it.

And they were in the best position for so doing, since they were nearest the scene. Their big craft glided to the spot where the canoe floated bottom upward, and there came a sharp command from the youth in the bow.

"Harris--Wing--get ready to dive!" he commanded curtly. "The rest of you hold her steady."

The eight young men in the racing canoe were all in their bathing suits, and in an instant two of them stood poised and ready.

"There she is! The fellow, too! In you go!" commanded the self-constituted leader.

Two lithe figures, their arms and legs already bronzed by the early summer sun, went down in clean dives, with hardly a splash. At the same instant there were two spots where a commotion in the water showed the presence of Alice and Tupson, coming up after their first immersion.

Now Alice was a good swimmer--in fact all the Nowadays Girls were--and she had held her breath as she felt the waters closing over her. And when she struck out and came to the surface she was ready for the next move in the emergency.

But even a good swimmer is hampered by wet and clinging clothing, particularly a girl or woman, and Alice felt a momentary fear, that passed almost as soon as formed, for she saw a bronze-faced young man striking out to aid her.

"Put your hand on my shoulder," he advised her, in calm, even tones.

"Oh, I--I can swim all right," Alice assured him. She did not want him to think that she would frantically clutch him about the neck, or do any of those things that persons, unable to swim, are apt to do when they fall into the water and see a rescuer coming. "I can swim," she repeated, "it is only that my skirts are so wet and clinging."

"I understand," he said. "You're all right!"

"Is he--he?" asked Alice, and then she had to turn her face away from a little wave that splashed up at her. The other canoes, with their frightened occupants, were drawing near.

"Your friend is being taken care of," her rescuer said. "He doesn't seem to be able to swim as well as you."

"Oh, I do hope you will save him!" she cried, at the same time thinking how strange it sounded to hear Tupson spoken of as her "friend."

"He'll be all right. Wing has him safe, and Wing knows how to handle his kind. Now shall we right your canoe, or will you come in ours?"

"It looks to be easier to get into yours."

"Yes, it's much larger and steadier. Over this way."

He guided her, keeping her up by placing one of her hands on his shoulder. Alice could feel the strong, rhythmic ripple of his muscles as he struck out for the big canoe, not far away.

"Lift her in!" commanded the youth in the bow.

"If you don't mind," Alice said, calmly, for she had full control of herself now, "I'll just hold on to the stern and let you paddle over toward the shore. I'm not a bit cold, and it isn't far."

"Well, just as you like," assented the leader. He divined her reason for not wanting to clamber into a boat, all dripping wet as she was, when the boat was filled with eager-eyed young fellows.

"Wing has his man--guess he had to hit him," some one said.

Alice, clinging to the stern of the big canoe, saw another bronzed swimmer approaching, supporting on one arm the limp form of her former companion.

"Oh, I hope he isn't hurt," she gasped, in much anxiety.

"Don't worry," her own rescuer said. "Wing has served as a lifeguard at Atlantic City. He knows what to do."

Tupson was not much stunned by the blow Wing had been obliged to deal him to prevent the frantic clutch that might have meant a death-hold for both of them. A little later Tupson was hoisted into the big canoe, which was paddled ashore, towing Alice and Harris, who stoutly insisted on remaining near her.

Very much bedraggled, and not a little embarrassed, Alice was helped on shore near a small summer cottage, the owner of which at once sent his wife to look after the unfortunate one. Alice was taken to the house, her companions following. Tupson soon recovered, and was not a little ashamed of himself.

But the fault lay with the broken paddle of the big canoe, and while that was an accident, it might not have occurred had not the boys been speeding in their craft. They expressed their regret and did all they could, bringing ashore the overturned canoe, righting it and putting it in the sun where it would dry.

Meanwhile Alice was being provided with an outfit of dry garments by the owner of the cottage, and a messenger was despatched to the hotel, not far away, for some of her own clothes. Reassuring word was also sent to Mrs. Brownley, for fear she would hear an exaggerated report of the accident and worry unnecessarily.

"And now that I'm clothed, and in my right mind, let's continue the trip," suggested Alice.

"Do you mean it?" asked one of the boys who, with Tupson, formed the escort of the Nowadays Girls.

"Mean it? Of course I mean it! Why not? I'm all right, and if Mr. Tupson----"

"Oh, I'm game!" he declared. "I'm ashamed of not behaving better in the water, but I lost my head. I was worried about you," he said to Alice.

"Thank you," she graciously replied. "Then let's go on."

Tupson was sufficiently dried out, and the trip was resumed. Fortunately the lunch was not in the overturned canoe, and the impromptu picnic was successfully carried out.

The little accident provided a fruitful subject for conversation at the hotel that afternoon, when the porch was filled with animated rocking-chairs and their gossipy occupants. The girls were rather the heroines of the occasion, especially Alice, and she was formally waited upon by the eight canoeists, who said they regretted that their desire for speed had caused annoyance to any one. Their apologies were graciously accepted.

"How much longer are we going to stay here?" asked Rose that night.

"Getting anxious to get to Saranac?" questioned Hazel.

"Well,--yes," was the frank answer. "But if we are going to stay another day or so, I'm going in for a bit of golf. I can borrow a set of clubs here, and the links are good, though rather small."

"Have a game, by all means, if you like," assented Sylvia. "We'll make up a foursome. I'll take Rose."

"How nicely she says it!" laughed Alice. "Very well, we're not to be frightened; are we, Hazel? Are you in form?"

"Oh, we'll accept the challenge. Let's go out and have a look at the course."

They found it a fairly good one, and a game was soon arranged.

"My! Look at those girls!" exclaimed an elderly lady on the hotel porch, as she saw the four departing with caddies at their side, carrying the bags.

"What's the matter with them?" some one asked.

"Why, the things they do--first they're dancing, then they're canoeing--and incidentally upsetting, next they're off golfing. I wouldn't be surprised to see them in an aëroplane next."

"Nor I," assented her companion. "They certainly are up-to-date girls. But they are delightful, and they are real girls, not powdery imitations."

"Humph! The cat!" exclaimed a tall, willowy young lady who overheard this. She kept very much in the shade, and her nose looked as though she had dipped it into a flour barrel and then forgotten to take it out.

"Fore!" called Rose, who led off in the golf game.

She grasped her driver firmly, settled herself on the bare, clay-covered tee, and drove off with all her force.

"Crack!" went her driver against the white ball.

"Oh, Rose!" cried Sylvia. But it was too late.

Across behind a bunker, toward which Rose drove, a young man walked, and a moment later the girls saw the white golf ball strike him on the head. He fell as if shot, dropping out of sight behind the long, grassy hill that formed a hazard on the links.