Mercer nearly rapped his head against the seat above him in his excitement.
"You know which house? Let's go there. Maybe we can hear what they're saying. Can we get under it?"
She nodded.
"Let's try, Anina," he said eagerly. "You steer us slow right under it, just as if you were going past. If there's nobody in sight you can stop underneath, can't you? Maybe we can hear what they're saying."
"I try," the girl said simply.
"I'll lay still," encouraged Mercer. "Nobody will bother about you. Just sneak in and see what happens. If anybody sees you, keep going."
He was all excitement, and in spite of Anina's protests wriggled about continually, trying to see where they were.
The house that the girl had pointed out lay only a few hundred yards ahead. It was one of the largest of the wooden buildings—sixty or seventy feet long at least—single story, with a high sloping thatched roof.
It was raised on a platform some six feet above the water, which, in front, had a little flight of wooden steps leading down to the surface. There was a hundred feet of open water on all sides of the building. The boat, moving slowly, slipped through the water almost without a sound.
"Where are we now?" Mercer whispered impatiently. "Aren't we there yet?"