"Lay him in the dugout," Bela said indifferently. "I paddle him."
"No you don't," said Joe quickly. "He goes with the men."
"All right," said Bela, shrugging. "You come wit' me."
This arrangement pleased Joe very well, and by it Bela succeeded in parting him from Sam.
The two boats proceeded together down the smoothly flowing, willow-bordered stream. Shand and Jack took turns at sculling the larger craft, and Bela loafed on her paddle that they might keep up with her.
The view was as confined and unvarying as the banks of a canal, except that canals commonly are straight, while this watercourse twisted like Archimedes's screw. The only breaks in the endless panorama of cut-banks, mud-flats, willows, and grass were the occasional little inlets, gay with aquatic flowers.
Bela was most at home kneeling in the stern of her dugout. Joe, sitting opposite, watched her graceful action with a kindling eye.
"Drop behind a bit," he whispered. "I want to talk to you. Are you listening?"
She seemed not to have heard. Nevertheless the other boat drew away a little.
"Look here," Joe began with what he intended to be an ingratiating air, "this is a bad business for you. I'm not saying I blame you. Just the same your price has gone down, see? Do you get me?"