eried Polly.

"No. But I will," declared the other girl, confidently, and slipped into
the water.

She ventured under the bottom of the catboat and, turning suddenly,
braced her feet against it, and so flung herself down into the depths.

She descended more swiftly with the momentum thus gained, traveling
toward the bottom on a different slant than before. With her hands far
before her she defended her head from collision with any sunken object
there might be down here. And this time she actually did hit something
again.

She turned quickly and grabbed at it with both hands. It seemed like a
sharp, smooth pole sticking almost upright in the water. There was a bit
of rag, or marine plant of some kind, attached to it.

She struggled to pull herself down by the staff, but she had been below
now longer than before. Just what the staff could be she did not imagine
until she had again turned and "kicked" her way upward.

"It's the pennant staff of the sunken boat!" she gasped, as she came to
the surface and could open her mouth once more.

"Hush! what's the matter with you?" demanded Polly, in a low voice,
directly at hand.

"Oh! have they gone?"

"The bateau is out of hearing distance. But you _do_ splash like a
porpoise."

"Nonsense! Let me climb up."

Polly gave her some help and in a few moments Wyn lay panting in the
tiny cockpit of the boat.

"Did--did you find anything?" queried Polly, anxiously.

Wyn told her what she believed she had found underneath the water, and
the position of the staff. "It must be lying bow on to us here," she
said.

"Oh! do you suppose it really _is_ the _Bright Eyes_?"

"It's something," replied Wyn, confidently, pulling one of the blankets
around her.

"I'm going down myself," declared Polly, sharply.

"All right. Maybe you can find more of the boat. It's there."

Polly sprang up into the bow of the catboat, poised herself for a moment
and then dived overboard. She could outswim and outdive any of the
Go-Ahead girls--and why not? She was in, or on, the lake from early
spring until late autumn.

Polly was under the surface no longer than Wyn; but when she came up she
struck out for the _Coquette_ and scrambled immediately into the
boat.

"What is it? Am I right? Is it a boat?" cried the anxious Wynnie.

"Yes! It's there. Oh, Wynifred Mallory! My father is going to be so
relieved! It's--it's just heavenly! How can we ever thank you?"

Wyn was crying softly. "I'm s