ir feet were as weary as their shoulders under the burden that
was Isabel's part to string while her partner enjoyed himself.

"But we must really go," she announced, finally. "We have a long stretch
out in the open creek after we leave the slough, and it is not so easy
to keep the channel after dark. I have lost track of things and don't
remember what time the moon rises. You can come every day if you like;
and four in the morning is the best time if you are energetic enough--"

"I would get up at midnight--stay up all night. But I am quite willing
to return now--and not for tea. I should like several of these ducks for
supper, if your Jap is less haughty than mine."

Their way lay through the middle of the marsh-land. It was not until
they reached the slough that she uttered a loud sharp cry. The boat was
at least three feet below them and there was nothing at either end but
mud.

Isabel stamped both feet in succession and flung her burden to the
ground. "Why, _why_ did I take Mac's word?" she exclaimed, furiously.
"He always makes mistakes about the tide--he hasn't an inch of memory
left. Why didn't I look at the calendar? Or think? This comes of going
off for three weeks instead of staying at home and attending to
business. I had a confused idea that this was the 'good week.' Great
heavens!"

Gwynne had watched her with considerable interest and curiosity. But he
answered, soothingly: "Well, what of it? The tide turns, doesn't it." It
happened that he had had no experience of marsh-lands.

"Yes--in six hours."

"Six hours! Well, what of it? It is all in the day's work. Look at it as
a jolly adventure." It was his first opportunity to console and he
hastened to take advantage of it. "We have tea and sandwiches, warm
enough clothing, and the weather is perfection. If we get stiff and
chilly we can walk--"

"Walk? In these rubber boots? I am nearly dead already." She had a wild
impulse to drop her head on his shoulder and weep; but her pride flew to
the front and she shrugged her shoulders and remarked, airily: "I don't
really mind anything much except being an idiot. However, I'll make it
up to you. I can cook ducks better than Chuma. You make the tea."

Gwynne made a fire out of decayed tule weed and driftwood, then climbed
down into the boat and brought up the provisions and utensils intended
for an earlier interlude. The tea warmed and stimulated both, and they
knelt by the fire and toasted the ducks at t