ere comfortably tucked up.

Meanwhile Bill was getting tired of waiting. His chief fear was that he
might spoil everything by forgetting the number "six." It was the sixth
post. Six. He broke off a twig and divided it into six pieces. These
he arranged on the ground in front of him. Six. He looked at the pond,
counted up to the sixth post, and murmured "six" to himself again. Then
he looked down at his twigs. One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. Seven!
Was it seven? Or was that seventh bit of a twig an accidental bit which
had been on the ground anyhow? Surely it was six! Had he said "six"
to Antony? If so, Antony would remember, and it was all right. Six.
He threw away the seventh twig and collected the other six together.
Perhaps they would be safer in his pocket. Six. The height of a tall
man--well, his own height. Six feet. Yes, that was the way to remember
it. Feeling a little safer on the point, he began to wonder about the
bag, and what Antony would say to it, and the possible depth of the
water and of the mud at the bottom; and was still so wondering, and
saying, "Good Lord, what a life!" to himself, when Antony reappeared.

Bill got up and came down the slope to meet him.

"Six," he said firmly. "Sixth post from the end."

"Good," smiled Antony. "Mine was the eighteenth--a little way past it."

"What did you go off for?"

"To see Cayley into bed."

"Is it all right?"

"Yes. Better hang your coat over the sixth post, and then we shall
see it more easily. I'll put mine on the eighteenth. Are you going to
undress here or in the boat?"

"Some here, and some in the boat. You're quite sure that you wouldn't
like to do the diving yourself?"

"Quite, thanks."

They had walked round to the other side of the pond. Coming to the sixth
post of the fence, Bill took off his coat and put it in position,
and then finished his undressing, while Antony went off to mark the
eighteenth post. When they were ready, they got into the boat, Antony
taking the oars.

"Now, Bill, tell me as soon as I'm in a line with your two marks."

He rowed slowly towards the middle of the pond.

"You're about there now," said Bill at last.

Antony stopped rowing and looked about him.

"Yes, that's pretty well right." He turned the boat's nose round until
it was pointing to the pine-tree under which Bill had lain. "You see my
tree and the other coat?"

"Yes," said Bill.

"Right. Now then, I'm going to row gently along this line un