The next day's run was a slow one, for the ice was bad in many places, and several hummocks had to be explored to find passable crossing-places. They could sight islands off at their left, but the nearest was several miles away; and though they knew they belonged to the Put-in-Bay group, they did not think it would pay to swerve from their course so long as the ice permitted them to advance towards the mainland. So they kept on, and the shore came nearer and nearer, until they could see that they were entering a great "bight," and that one mass of land, three or four miles towards the left, which they had taken for an island, was really a headland; so they shaped their course for it.
Near the beach stood a little house surrounded by small fields and hemmed in by the leafless woods. Towards this cottage they made their way, and its owner evidently saw them coming, for a grizzled old man, helping himself with a cane, hobbled down to meet them as they approached the beach.
Chapter XXXII.
AN ASTONISHED FARMER.
"Wall, I swanny!" was the farmer's exclamation, as he stared at the strange-looking outfit invading his shores. "Who be ye? and where did ye come from?"
They began to tell him, and at every sentence his "Wall, I swanny!" was thrown in, to show the astonishment with which he listened. At last he seemed to recollect himself.
"Ye mus' be drea'ful tired—nigh about beat out—and cold, too. Come into the haouse and git suthin' to eat. There ain't nobody to hum, but I guess I can find ye suthin'."