No! There it lay, slowly, inertly drifting on the ripples, only sometimes shaking its head.
The other two alert birds waded confidently, busily among the stones.
Kate read a bit more.
When she looked again, she could not see her bird. But the other two were walking among the stones, jauntily.
She read a bit more.
The next thing was a rather loutish youth of eighteen or so, in overall trousers, running with big strides towards the water, and the stiff little man-brat scuttling after with determined bare feet. Her heart stood still.
The two busy mud-chicks rose in flight and went low over the water into the blare of light. Gone!
But the lout in the big hat and overall trousers and those stiff Indian shoulders she sometimes hated so much, was peering among the stones. She, however, was sure her bird had gone.
No! Actually no! The stiff-shoulder lout stooped and picked up the damp thing. It had let itself drift back.
He turned, dangling it like a rag from the end of one wing, and handed it to the man-brat. Then he stalked self-satisfied up the shore.