She nodded, her eyes on the slicker at the window.
"It's pretty safe," said Kent, fishing out his pipe, and beginning to fill it. "Everybody asleep, probably. But we won't take any chances." The scow was swinging sideways in the current. Kent felt the change in its movement, and added: "No danger of being wrecked, either. There isn't a rock or rapids for thirty miles. River clear as a floor. If we bump ashore, don't get frightened."
"I'm not afraid—of the river," she said. Then, with rather startling unexpectedness, she asked him, "Where will they look for us tomorrow?"
Kent lighted his pipe, eyeing her a bit speculatively as she seated herself on the stool, leaning toward him as she waited for an answer to her question.
"The woods, the river, everywhere," he said. "They'll look for a missing boat, of course. We've simply got to watch behind us and take advantage of a good start."
"Will the rain wipe out our footprints, Jeems?"
"Yes. Everything in the open."
"But—perhaps—in a sheltered place—?"
"We were in no sheltered place," he assured her. "Can you remember that we were, Gray Goose?"
She shook her head slowly. "No. But there was Mooie, under the window."