The cart was afloat. The horse, finding wading more difficult than swimming, began to swim.
“Now I'm skipper again, sure enough,” remarked Hammond. “Ain't gettin' seasick, are you?”
The minister laughed.
“No,” he said.
“Good! she keeps on a fairly even keel, considerin' her build. THERE she strikes! That'll do, January; you needn't try for a record voyage. Walkin's more in your line than playin' steamboat. We're over the worst of it now. Say! you and I didn't head for port any too soon, did we?”
“No, I should say not. I ought to have known better than to wait out there so long. I've been warned about this tide. I—”
“S-sh-sh! YOU ought to have known better! What do you think of me? Born and brought up within sight and smell of this salt puddle and let myself in for a scrape like this! But it was so mighty fine off there on the bar I couldn't bear to leave it. I always said that goin' to sea on land would be the ideal way, and now I've tried it. But you took bigger chances than I did. Are you a good swimmer?”
“Not too good. I hardly know what might have happened if you hadn't—”
“S-sh-sh! that's all right. Always glad to pick up a derelict, may be a chance for salvage, you know. Here's the last channel and it's an easy one. There! now it's plain sailin' for dry ground.”
The old horse, breathing heavily from his exertions, trotted over the stretch of yet uncovered flats and soon mounted the slope of the beach. The minister prepared to alight.