“Oh, don’t, Heavy!” wailed one of the weaker ones.  “How can you?”

Heavy was privately as frightened as any of them, but she tried to keep the others cheerful, and would have kept on joking till the end.  But several small boats came racing down the pond after them, and along the bank came a man—­or a boy—­running and shouting.  How either the girls in the boats or the youth on the shore could help them, was a mystery; but both comforted the imperiled party immensely.

The current swung the heavy punt in toward the shore.  Right at that end of the dam the water was running a foot deep—­or more—­over the flash-board.

If the punt struck, it would turn broadside, and probably tip all hands over the dam.  This was a serious predicament, indeed, and the spectators realized it even more keenly than did the girls in the punt.

The youth who had been called to the spot by their screams threw off his coat and cap, and they saw him stoop to unlace his shoes.  A plunge into this cold water was not attractive, and it was doubtful if he could help them much if he reached the punt.

Down the hill from the picnic grounds came a group of girls, Ann Hicks in the lead.  Most of her companions were too small to do any good in any event.  The girl from the ranch carried a neat coil of rope in one hand and she shouted to Heavy to “Hold on!”

“You tell me what to hold on to, and you’ll see me do it!” replied the plump girl.  “All I can take hold of just now is thin air.”

“Hold on!” said Ann again, and stopped, having reached the right spot.  Then she swung the rope in the air, let it uncoil suddenly, and the loose end dropped fairly across Jennie Stone’s lap.

“Hold on!” yelled everybody, then, and Heavy obeyed.

But the young fellow sprang to Ann’s aid, and wrapped the slack of the rope around a stout sapling on the edge of the pond.

“Easy!  Easy!” he admonished.  “We don’t want to pull them out of the boat.  You can fling a rope; can’t you, Miss?”

“I’d ought to,” grunted Ann.  “I’ve roped enough steers—­Why! you’re Jerry Sheming,” she declared, suddenly looking into his face.  “Ruth Fielding wants to see you.  Don’t you run away before she talks with you.”

Then the rope became taut, and the punt began to swing shoreward slowly, taking in some water and setting the girls to screaming again.

CHAPTER IX

RUTH’S LITTLE PLOT

The punt was in shallow water and the girls who had ventured into it without oars were perfectly safe before any of the teachers arrived.  With them came Ruth and Helen, and some of the other juniors and seniors.  Heavy took the stump.

“Now! you see what she did?” cried the stout girl, seizing Ann in her arms the moment she could get ashore.  “If she hadn’t known how to fling a lasso, and rope a steer, she’d never have been able to send that rope to us.