“But I heard it, too, Mother Kull.”
“Your ears serve you tricks, too, Anna. You wait and help Valentine home with the animals.”
Anna was glad to have her mother gone. She sped to the marsh. She threaded it, until by 145 sundry signs she found the trio and summoned them forth.
The old Blazing Star Ferry was seldom used. A boat lay there. It was staunch. The tide with them, they might get it across. Had they been older, wiser, they would never have made the attempt.
A fresh water stream ran down to the sea. They passed it on their way thither. In it Sleet drank deep, and soothed for a moment the bites that tormented her; the children kneeled on the grassy bank, and drank from their palms; the calf frolicked in it, till driven out. An hour went by. They reached the ferry. It was deserted. Somebody had used the boat that day. It was at the shore. Grass was yet in it.
“Come along, Snow,” said Valentine, urging with the rope. “Go along, Snow,” said Anna, helping it on with a stout twig she had picked up. The calf pranced and ran, and before it knew its whereabouts was in the broad-bottomed boat. Sleet stood on the shore, and saw her baby tied fast. One poor cry the calf uttered. It went home to the motherly heart of the dumb creature. She went down the sand, over the side, and began, in her own way, to comfort Snow.
“Now we are all right!” cried Valentine, delighted with the success of his ruse; for he had slyly, lest Anna should see the deed, thrust a pin in Snow to call forth the cry and win the cow over to his side.
“Take an oar quick!” commanded the young captain.
His mate obeyed. They pushed the boat out, unfastened it from the pier. Before anybody concerned had time to realize the situation the boat was adrift, and they were whirling in the tide.