"I can't swim it, you know," said Brian.
"—have so deeply submerged, dedicated themselves, that they might truly be said to have become one with—" Gaining on the canoe, the gray-faced chip moved tranquilly, placidly approving, toward the open sea. And with a final remnant of strength, Brian inched forward to the bow of the canoe and gathered the full force of his lungs to shout up the river: "Go in peace!"
They could not have heard him. They were too far away and a new morning wind was blowing, fresh and sweet, out of the northwest.