If I had any doubts about it they were dispelled when I had rowed the two boats up the bay until we were abreast the Colton mansion. Then Victor, who had been talking in a low tone with his fellow passenger in the dingy, looked at the distant shore and, over his shoulder, at me.
“Here!” he shouted. “Where are you going? That's the landing over there.”
“I know,” I answered. “But we shall have to go around that flat. We can't cross here.”
“Why? What's the reason we can't?”
“Because there isn't water enough. We should get aground.”
He stood up to look.
“Nonsense!” he said. “There's plenty of water. I can't see any flat, or whatever you call it.”
“It's there, though you can't see it. It is covered with eelgrass and doesn't show. We shall have to go a half mile further before we turn in.”
“A half mile! Why, confound it! it's past one o'clock now. We haven't any time to waste.”
“I'm sorry, but we can't cross yet. And, if I were you, I shouldn't stand up in that boat.”