"Oh, that," the girl said. "If you're worried about that, I've been talking to Mrs. Miller. She was awake most of the night the water disappeared. She says she isn't certain but she thought she saw somebody crawl forward and help himself while you were asleep."
Craig sighed. All the time he had known he hadn't taken the water. The important thing was for Margy to know it.
"Look," said Craig, gesturing toward the shore-line, "out there is a new world, new lands, new places, all waiting to be explored. It's all ours, every foot of it, to be explored—"
"Ours?" the girl questioned, and her voice was very low.
"Yes," Craig said. "What I mean is—Margy—Well, you once said we were two of a kind—and—"
"I think," the girl said calmly, "that Captain Higgins has the authority to make us one of a kind, if that is what you are trying to say."
"That," Craig shouted, "is exactly what I am trying to say."
The dusk deepened into darkness. They were very close together now. Saying nothing, they looked toward shore, toward that vast, strange new land where no human foot had ever trod. It was in Craig's mind that this strange adventure in time was almost over. Then, as he thought of the new worlds that his sons and grandsons would have the privilege of exploring, the thought came that adventure is never over—it is always just beginning.