Marco proceeded to give the boy an account of his getting adrift, but in a short time the water began to grow so deep that he was afraid. The boy, however, told him that there was no danger. The bottom of the river, at this place, was a great bed of pebble stones, and the current ran very swiftly over them, and curled in sharp ripples about the horse's legs. Presently, however, the water became more shallow, and they soon safely reached the shore.
"Now," said Marco, "I want to get back to the mill just as quick as I can—before the steamboat goes."
"The steamboat?" said the boy, "she has gone long ago. She went by early this morning."
"Yes," said Marco, "she went by here, but she got stopped."
So Marco told the boy the story of their having got aground, and of his going ashore; and of all his adventures, in fact, down to the time of his being cast upon the desert island. The boy told him that he had better make haste; "for," said he, "the tide has risen a great deal already. When the tide is at the lowest, we can go out to that island almost on bare ground."
"But I can't walk back four miles," said Marco. "Could you not carry me in a wagon?" he continued.
"We have got a wagon," said the boy, "if my father will let me go."
"Let us go right up and ask him," said Marco
They accordingly began to advance up the road, the boy putting his horse to a rapid trot. Marco, who was not accustomed to riding in this style—behind another boy, and without a saddle—was much jolted, and, in fact, he found it very difficult to keep his seat. He began to feel so much anxiety, however, about getting back again, that he did not complain. In a short time, the boy reached the house. It was a small, plain farm-house. There was a shed at one side of it, with a wagon standing in the shed—the shafts resting upon a wood-pile.