of dinghy, bobbing and butting along beside the rocks a little way
down the shore. We all ran helter-skelter, and Jerry pulled off his
shoes like a flash and waded out and pulled the boat in.

"It's one of those old tubs from around the ferry-landing," he said.
"It must have got adrift and come down with the tide. Oars in it and
all."

We stood there silently, Jerry in the water holding the boat, and we
were all thinking the same thing. It was Greg who said it first,
quite solemnly.

"We could go out to the Sea Monster."

Of course it was then that I ought to have said that we couldn't,
but Jerry pulled the boat up the beach and ran back to the end of
the point to see how high the waves were before I could say it. It
was too late to say it afterwards, because when we saw that there
was not even the faintest curl of white foam around the Sea Monster,
it did seem as though we could do it.

"It'll only take about five minutes to row out there," Jerry said,
"and then we'll have seen it at last. It couldn't be a better time.
Why, a newly hatched duckling could swim out there to-day."

It did look very near, and the water was calm and shiny, with just a
long, heaving roll now and then, as if something underneath were
humping its shoulders.

So I said, "All right; let's," and we climbed into the boat. Jerry