Cora was dimly conscious of a figure on the opposite bank of the
stream. A figure of a young man, with a fishing-pole in his hands.
She saw a spray of water, cast up by the auto, drench him. She even
heard him cry out, but at that moment she gave him not a thought.
Everything centered on her narrow escape, the condition of her two
chums, and, last, but not least, whether her new auto had been
damaged.
Cora leaned over the side and looked at the water flowing past the
mud guards.
"Safe!" she exclaimed. "I--I thought we were doomed, girls. Didn't
you?"
"Doomed?" echoed Elizabeth. "I never want to go through that
experience again."
"Me either," added Cora fervently. "Has Belle fainted?"
"I'm afraid so."
Cora leaned over, scooped some water up in her hand, and dashed it
into the white face of the girl. Isabel opened her eyes.
"Are we--are we--" she gasped.
"We're all right, you little goose," said Cora with a laugh, though
her voice trembled and her hands shook. "I guess it wasn't nearly as
dangerous as it looked."
"It was bad enough," spoke Elizabeth.
"Anyhow, the auto stopped," went on Cora. "Don't you see where we
are? In the middle of Campbell's Pond. And we won't have to swim
out, either.
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