"That's easy. Is that all there is to rowing?"
"It won't be so easy presently."
Beth pulled away with ail her might, and in silence. Suddenly, there was a splash of water on her side, and she almost tumbled into the bottom of the boat. Harvey laughed.
"I thought you'd be catching a crab before long."
Beth's eyes opened wide. "I didn't see any crab, Harvey. My oar just balked."
"That's what is called catching a crab, you know, when your oar doesn't go far enough into the water. Say, Beth, you had better not try to row any more. It'll tire you. Don't you want to stop?"
"No indeed. I like to row."
Again Beth pulled away with all her might. Very soon, she began to feel uncomfortably warm. Her hands burned terribly, and presently she rested a moment on her oar and pointed to the land, now within easy rowing distance.
"Wouldn't that be a good spot for our picnic?"
Harvey saw how tired she was and answered: