They floated down with the tide and a little movement of the oars; there was absolutely no wind. The sloops and schooners in the river drifted or swung at anchor. Hardly a leaf moved on a stem. The tide ran fast, however, and the little boat slipped easily past the gay banks, with their kaleidoscope changes of colour. This piece of the way nevertheless seemed long, just because the inexperienced were constantly expecting it to come to an end; but on and on the boat glided, and there was never a creek or a mill to be seen.
"Uncle Eden," said Maggie, "there used to be a creek here somewhere."
"Certainly."
"There is none here now," said Flora.
"That you see."
"I can look along the shore for a good way, Mr. Murray. Are we going quite down to those mountains?"
"No. You will see the creek presently."
"The banks seem without the least break in them."
"It will not do to trust to appearances. Have you not found that out yet?"
"I tell you what, I'm getting hungry," said Fenton, who was taking his turn at the oars.