"The pain?"
"Our boat. I tied it up to this post."
"You can't have done. What's that boat over there! That looks like ours."
"No, it isn't. That was there when we came. I noticed it. I tied ours up here, to this post."
"This is a shade awkward," said Dunstable thoughtfully. "You must have tied it up jolly rottenly. It must have slipped away and gone down-stream. This is where we find ourselves in the cart. Right among the ribstons, by Jove. I feel like that Frenchman in the story, who lost his glasses just as he got to the top of the mountain, and missed the view. Altogezzer I do not vish I 'ad kom."
"I'm certain I tied it up all right. And—why, look! here's the rope still on the pole, just as I left it."
For the first time Dunstable seemed interested.
"This is getting mysterious. Did we hire a rowing-boat or a submarine? There's something on the end of this rope. Give it a tug, and see. There, didn't you feel it?"
"I do believe," said Linton in an awed voice, "the thing's sunk."
They pulled at the rope together. The waters heaved and broke, and up came the nose of the boat, to sink back with a splash as they loosened their hold.