skillfully done, and the prongs caught on some part of the barge, low
enough down so that the hempen strands would not burn. Mr. Stone
pulled on the rope to see if it would hold. It did, and he called:

"Let her go, Miss Nelson! Gradually though; don't put too much strain
on the rope at first! After you get the barge started the other way,
it will be all right."

Betty sent the Gem ahead. The rope paid out over the stern-- taunted--
became tight. There was a heavy strain on it. Would it hold? It did,
and slowly the hay barge began to move out into the lake.

"Hurray!" cried Mr. Kennedy. "That solved the problem."

"You girls certainly know how to do things," said Mr. Stone,
admiringly.

Cheers from those in surrounding boats seemed to emphasize this
sentiment. There was now no danger to the Yacht Club boathouse.

A little later, when the flames in the hay were at their height, the
piece of iron was dropped overboard from the Gem. This, with the rope
and the kedge anchor, served to hold the barge in place. There it
could burn without doing any harm.

Soon the fire began to die down, and a little later it was but a
smouldering mass, not even interesting as a spectacle. Betty Nelson's
plan had worked well, and later she received the thanks of the Yacht
Club, she and her chums being elected honorary life members in
recognition of the service they had rendered.