"All but one. Drunk, that"s what they was. You can"t hardly shoot drunk men."
The first voice retorted:
"No, you can"t."
"Well, anyway, we got one; the one with the mask. Didn"t hit him hard. He ought to be coming round."
Mark tried to discover the meaning of all this. The place had been raided. The Orientals had escaped. They had swarmed out yelling like mad men probably. The quick action gas would make them act as if under the influence of liquor. Probably they had tumbled the raiders over. But who were these raiders?
He did not have long to wait for the answer. A rough hand dragged the mask from his face. He looked up into the frank blue eyes of a burly policeman.
"You"re comin" round. Sit up. Why, you"re no Oriental! You"re a white kid. What you doin" here?"
Mark sat up and told them what he had been doing.
"That quick action gas now," laughed one of the men, "wouldn"t be bad stuff for the police force now and again."
Suddenly Mark made an effort to rise. He had thought of the plight of his friends on the O Moo.
"You--you"ll help me launch my schooner!" he exclaimed.
"What"s the idea?"
"Why you see those girls in the O Moo don"t know how to start their engine. Somebody"s got to bring them in."
"What"s your schooner?"
"The Elsie C."
"That turtle sh.e.l.l? You"d be committin" suicide to go in her. You come along with us. We"re holdin" you as a material witness and--and to prevent you from committing suicide by trying the lake in that sh.e.l.l."
Reluctantly Mark obeyed.
"Can"t something be done?" he demanded desperately.
"Not before morning. Not much then, probably. How"d you find a yacht blowin" round loose in this whirlin" bag of snow?"
There is a bottom to every depth, a state of darkness which cannot be exceeded, a limit even to despair. As Florence looked upon Lucile"s closed eyes she reached the bottom; experienced the utter darkness; found the limit of despair.
And then a strangely joyous thing happened.
Lucile"s eyes opened. She smiled faintly. Strange to say, in the midst of this tumult, she had merely fallen asleep.
Florence took a new and firmer grip on hope.
"How--how do you feel?" she stammered.
"I think I am better," Lucile whispered. "Where are we?"
"We"re all right," said Florence quickly. "Day is breaking. The storm will go down as the sun rises. They"ll be after us in a tug. In a few hours we"ll be back on the dock?"
She said all this very quickly, not knowing how much of it she believed herself, but feeling quite sure that Lucile ought to believe it. Just then a chair, pitching across the floor, caught her behind the knees and sent her sprawling.
The very shock of this set her blood tingling. "Believe we could do something about the furniture now it"s getting light," she told herself.
"Marian," she called, "come on down and let"s see what we can do to save things. We"re ruined as it is. No more university for us. It will take all the money we have to put this cabin back into condition. But we might as well save what we can."
A table came lurching at her. She caught it as if it were a piece of gymnasium equipment. Then rescuing a water-soaked sheet from the floor she tied the table to a hand-rail.
Marian joined her in pursuit of the cabin furnishings. It really grew into quite a game. If a chair came at them too viciously they were obliged to vault over it and bring up an attack from the rear. If a whole platoon of tables and chairs leaped at them in the same second, they took to the cots.
Little by little order was restored. When a survey had been made it was found that one table was broken to splinters, two chairs had broken legs and numerous books and pictures had been utterly ruined.
"It might have been worse," said Florence cheerfully.
"Yes," agreed Marian, "We might have gone to the bottom. I do believe the storm is letting up."
She attempted to look out of a porthole. Daylight had come. Snow had ceased falling but a heavy fog was driving over the turbulent waters.
"Fine chance of anyone finding us," Marian whispered.
"Sh!" Florence warned as she shook a finger at Lucile"s berth, then aloud: "Boo! but I"m cold. Where are our clothes?"
Marian pointed mournfully at a ma.s.s of soggy rags in the corner. "No!"
she exclaimed suddenly, "no, not all. We put our evening skirts and middies and slippers in the hammock of our berths. And," she shouted joyously, "they are there still."
After some desperate struggles at keeping their balance and dressing at the same time, they found themselves warmly clad and immediately matters took on a different aspect.
"I believe," ventured Florence, "that we might get the generator going.
There"s just one place where water would cause a short circuit and that can be dried out by a candle. Then we can put in a new fuse and that little old friend of ours will be chug-chugging as well as ever. Not that I feel any need of heat," she mocked with a shrug and shiver, "but you know the supplying of warmth to our homes has become a social custom."
Having taken a candle from a drawer she lighted it, lifted a trap door and descended to the generator. She was relieved to note that the O Moo had shipped very little water.
"She"s a dandy staunch little craft," she sighed. "It"s a pity to have abused her so. I"d like to have a hand on the person who turned her loose."
For a quarter of an hour she worked patiently on the generator; then there came a sudden pop-pop-pop and the hardy little machine was doing its work once more.
At once a drowsy warmth began to creep over the cabin.
The storm was really beginning to abate. Waves no longer washed the deck.
The O Moo rose high, to fall low again as great, sweeping swells raced across the surface of the lake, but she did not pitch and toss.
Marian brought the electric range up from its hiding. After wiping it dry, she made toast and tea. The first she gave to Lucile. Then, after seeing her eyes close once more in sleep, she shared a scant breakfast with Florence.
"Things are looking better, don"t you think?" she sighed. "I am really beginning to think we"ll get out of this alive. Won"t that be wonderful?"