e first. See, she's staying on the other side of the
lake. It's a man. He's carrying her things. I'll paddle over for her in
a canoe. I don't think the man will come with her, but you and Zara go
into the tent there. Then you'll be all right. No one would ever think
of your being here, or asking any questions."

But Bessie watched anxiously. She couldn't make out the face of the man
with Wanaka, as she peered from the door of the tent, but if he was from
Hedgeville he would know her. Everyone knew the girl at Hoovers', whose
father and mother had deserted her. Bessie had long been one of the
most interesting people in town to the farmers and the villagers, who
had little to distract or amuse them.

"Stay quiet, Bessie," warned Minnehaha, as she stepped into the canoe.
"You'll be all right if you're not seen. I'll bring Wanaka back right
away."

With swift, sure strokes, Minnehaha sent the canoe skimming over the
water. The other girls were busy in various ways. Some were in the
tents, changing their clothes for bathing suits; some had gone into the
woods to get fresh water from a spring. For the moment no one was in
sight. And suddenly, out of a clear sky, as it seemed, disaster
threatened. Clouds had been gathering for some time but the sun was
still out, and there seemed no reason to fear any storm.

But now there was a sudden roughening of the smooth surface of the
water; white caps were lashed up by a squall that broke with no warning
at all. And Bessie, filled with horror, saw the canoe overturned by the
wind. She saw, too, what eyes less quick would have missed--that the
paddle, released from Minnehaha's grasp as the boat upset, struck her on
the head.

For a moment Bessie stood rooted to the spot in terror. And then, when
Minnehaha did not appear, swimming, Bessie acted. Forgotten was the
danger that she would be discovered--her fear of the man on the other
side of the lake. Wanaka might not have seen, and there was no time to
lose. The accident had occurred in the middle of the lake, and Bessie,
rushing to the beach, pushed off a canoe and began to drive it toward
the other canoe, floating quietly now, bottom up. The squall had passed
already.

Bessie had never been in a canoe before that day. She made clumsy work
of the paddling. But fear for Minnehaha and the need of reaching her at
once made up for any lack of skill. Somehow she reached the spot. By
that time the other girls had seen what was going on,