Would he do it? _Could_ he do it? She looked at her
watch. It was just half-past twelve, and all the men about Braeside
would have gone to their dinner; besides, it would take her some time to
run there for help. The Low Farm was perhaps a little nearer, but not
much, and something, she hardly dared to think what, might happen while
she was gone.

A sudden gust of wind lifted her hat from her head. This, at any other
time, would have been a mere frolic to this child of the moors, but now
it caused her real alarm. This same wind that played with her hat and
her hair, and that swept her petticoats about her, could do far more
mischief to the little boat with its flapping sails. It was nearly
opposite to her now, and still about half a mile from the landing-stage.
Marjory put her hands to her mouth.

"Shorten sail!" she called. "Shorten sail!"

Herbert appeared to be losing control of the boat and of his own wits,
and the boat seemed at the mercy of the wind.

Marjory called frantically to them to take in a certain sail and reef
another--directions which, even if they could have heard them, would
have been as Greek to the occupants of the boat; but the wind carried
her voice away, and she stood helpless, watching Herbert's bungling
attempts. Another moment, and the mast was broken, and in falling dealt
Herbert a blow on the head which stunned him for the time being.

Quick as thought, Marjory threw off her coat and boots and was in the
water, calling Silky to come too. Curly had been well trained, and was a
very clever, sensible dog by this time, and she ordered him to go home
and fetch his master, hoping that he might attract some one's notice.

Straining every nerve, Marjory swam towards the boat. "Throw out the
towline!" she screamed to the girls as soon as she was near enough for
them to hear her. Maud, now thoroughly frightened, did as she was bid,
and Marjory called to Silky, "Seize it, good dog! seize it!" The water
was not very rough, but she knew that it was deep in this particular
place, and the boat was being driven like a bird with a broken wing.

Silky, good dog that he was, got hold of the rope, which happily had
some floats attached to it, and began swimming steadily back towards his
mistress. Marjory caught the rope, and by its means drew herself to the
boat, carefully got into it, and in a very few minutes, having done what
was necessary, she took to the oars. Blanche was lying in Maud's arms,
over