It all happened in two seconds. No one quite knew how, though Ruth
declared afterwards that in trying to scramble past her Gladys stepped
on the gunwale. Over toppled the boat, and almost before its occupants
knew their danger they were struggling in the water. The girls could
swim a little--a very little. Kathleen, gasping and spluttering,
struggled valiantly towards the bank; Evie, with a certain instinct of
self-preservation, turned on her back, and managed to keep herself
afloat somehow. Ruth and Gladys clutched the upturned boat and, clung
there screaming. Mrs. Arnold was in even more desperate straits. She
could not swim, and she had fallen too wide of the boat to be able to
grasp it. The few patrols left in charge of the camp stood for a moment
paralysed, then tore along the side of the lake towards the scene of the
accident. But someone else was quicker. Rona, hunting for botany
specimens, had been watching the fishing from the bank close by. There
was a rush, a splash, a swift little figure wildly ploughing a path
through the lake, beating the water with short, impatient strokes.

"I won't clutch you," cried Mrs. Arnold, pluckily keeping her presence
of mind. "I believe I can manage to float."

She lay still as Rona put a hand under her shoulder and towed her
towards the shore, so still that she neither stirred nor spoke when
Doris and Catherine, who had reached the spot, helped to drag her from
the water.

"Oh, she's drowned!" shrieked Doris.

"No, no! Lay her down flat. She's opening her eyes."

Marion Harper and Madge Johnson, both tolerable swimmers, were plunging
to help Evie; Kathleen was already struggling ashore. "Wait till we can
come for you!" shouted Rona to Ruth and Gladys; "don't let go the boat."

Evie was pulled ashore first, not much the worse. Rona had trouble with
Gladys, who had waxed hysterical, but with Marion's help she landed her
safely and went back for Ruth. By this time the danger-signal, blown
lustily from several League whistles, brought all who were anywhere
within reach rushing to the rendezvous. Mrs. Arnold, with wet golden
hair clinging round her white face, leaned against Catherine's shoulder,
while Doris rubbed her hands.

"I'm glad my husband's gone to Capel Garmon to-day. Please let me tell
him myself," were her first words. "It was good little Rona who saved
me," she added, smiling faintly at Miss Bowes, who was down on her knees
beside her on the grass.

"I wis