“Weeds,” said Bevis, feeling the long rough stalks like string dragging against his feet. “Where? I can’t see.”
“Under water. They will not hurt.”
“There goes a flapper,” (a young wild duck). “I hope we shan’t see the magic wave.”
“Pooh!”
“My bundle is slipping.”
“Pull it up again.”
“It’s all right now.”
“Holloa! Land,” said Bevis, suddenly standing up.
He had reached a shallow where the water was no deeper than his knees.
“A jack struck. There,” said Mark, as he too stood up, and drew his catamaran along with his hand.