“Row me down the river, Jack!” distance and all else left undefined.
And down Jack is rowing him in regular measured stroke, no words passing between them. Both are silent, as though listening to the plash of the oar-blades, or the roundelay of late singing birds on the river’s bank.
Yet neither of these sounds has place in their thoughts; instead, only the memory of one different and less pleasant. For they are thinking of cries—shrieks heard by them not so long ago, and still too fresh in their memory.
Ryecroft is the first to break silence, saying,—
“This must be about the place where we heard it.”
Although not a word has been said of what the “it” is, and the remark seems made in soliloquy rather than as an interrogation, Wingate well knows what is meant, as shown by his rejoinder:—
“It’s the very spot, Captain.”
“Ah! you know it?”
“I do—am sure. You see that big poplar standing on the bank there?”
“Yes; well?”