hat on the water,' would be more appropriate. Well, Fred Hamilton,
I never thought you'd upset!"

"I didn't!" he cried indignantly. "You jumped, I saw you."

"Jumped! I never did! And even if I did, I don't see why you should
have turned a somersault. I could dance the Highland Fling in a canoe
and not upset. Oh dear! all my flowers are gone!" They put their
hands on the upturned craft and floated easily.

"What are you going to do about it?" she asked. "We're a long way from
shore, and the walking's damp."

He glanced about. They were a good distance from land, but the only
danger he anticipated was the danger of a rescue. He would be
disgraced forever if some fellow paddled out from home and picked them
up. But a little island lay between them and the town, screening them
from immediate exposure.

"Do? Why, just hop in again. Here, help me heave her over!"

Many a time in younger days, just for fun, they had pitched themselves
out of their canoe, righted it again, "scooped" and "rocked" the water
out, and scrambled back over bow and stern. But that was always when
they wore bathing suits and there were no paddles and cushions floating
about to be collected. But they were ready for even this difficult
feat. They tumbled the canoe over to its proper position, and the
young man, by balancing himself upon one end and swimming rapidly, sent
the stern up into the air and "scooped" most of the water out. Then
they rocked it violently from side to side, to empty the remainder,
while the girl sang gaily "Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep," her
dancing eyes no less bright than the water drops glistening on her
black curly hair.

But the emptying process was longer than they had anticipated, and the
evening air was growing cool. By the time the canoe was ready to
enter, the girl had stopped singing.

"Hustle up, Freddie!" she called, giving a little shiver, as he shot
away through the water for a paddle. "This water's getting wetter
every minute." When he returned, he placed himself at the stern and
the girl at the bow.

"Now," he cried, "when I say go, you climb like a cat, Les. Don't
hurry, just crawl in easy. Ready? Go!"

She placed her hands on the gunwale and drew herself up, while her
companion, with an eye on her progress, slowly crawled over the stern.

But the heavy drag of her soaked cloth skirt was too much for the
girl's strength. She paused, failed at the critical moment, slipped