The things we do!

"What boats have you got here?" demanded Dunwody.
"No boat at all, Monsieur," rejoined the habitant.
"Maybe so four, five feesh boat, that's hall."
"Bring them out!" was the terse order.
They dismounted and, leaving their horses tied in the wood at the
roadside, they went to the water's edge and presently embarked, a
half dozen men in each of as many long river skiffs, of the type
used by the fishermen in carrying out their nets. Dunwody and
Clayton were in the foremost boat and each pulled an oar. The
little flotilla crawled up-stream slowly, hugging the bank and
keeping to the shadows. At last they were opposite a low,
willow-covered island, and within a narrow channel where the water,
confined between two banks, flowed with swifter current. At
length, at Dunwody's quiet signal, all the boats paused, the crews
holding fast to the overhanging branches of the trees on the main
shore of the river.
"She's out there, just across yonder island," he whispered.


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