"Rot!" Bivens cried. "We've got two tenders. Send your guide ashore with one of the sailors to run his engine. The other man can tow us out and back."
Against his judgment he allowed Bivens to have his way.
The little man clambered on deck and bustled about, giving orders to the sailor who was stowing the lunch and ammunition.
When Stuart stopped the tender at the first blind, about five hundred yards away, Bivens protested.
"Here, here! I'm no mollycoddle if I have been sick. I can throw a stone to this blind. This isn't the one I want. There it is down yonder toward the end of that marsh. I saw thousands of ducks circling around it yesterday."
"But they'll come here to-day," Stuart urged. "The wind has shifted and they shift their course with the wind. This blind is all right."
"I won't have it!" Bivens stormed. "Go to the other!"
"This is all right to-day, I tell you," Stuart replied.
Bivens's face flushed with rage.
"Look here, Jim, I've given in to you every day we've been down here. I'm going to have my way this time."