"That is all that is wanted," said Keith. "A salt marsh is not complete without a boat tilted up aground somewhere, with its slender dark mast outlined against the sky. A boat sailing along in a commonplace way would blight the whole thing; what we want is an abandoned craft, aged and deserted, aground down the marsh with only its mast rising above the waste."
"Bien! there it is," said Carrington; "and now the question is, how to get to it."
"You two giants will have to go," said Keith, finding a comfortable seat. "I see a mile or two of tall wading before us, and up to your shoulders is over my head. I went duck-shooting with that man last year, señora. 'Come on,' he cried—'splendid sport ahead, old fellow; come on.'
"'Is it deep?' I asked from behind. I was already up to my knees, and could not see bottom, the water was so dark.
"'Oh, no, not at all; just right,' he answered, striding ahead. 'Come on.'
"I came; and went in up to my eyes."
But the señora did not smile.
"You know Carrington is taller than I am," explained Keith, amused by the novelty of seeing his own stories fall flat.
"Is he?" said the Sister vaguely.
It was evident that she had not observed whether he was or not.