"Well, we know it can't spring--and it won't bite, I guess."

"I'm not so sure. How are we going to get over?"

"Swim it, unless--no, I guess we won't swim--not, at least, if
there's a pair of oars in that flat-boat I see yonder. Funny we
didn't stumble over it when we came down."

"Maybe it wasn't here then. Maybe the man came over in it. We better
not stand here in the open. We don't know what minute he might be
back."

"Well, if it is his boat, at least we don't need to worry about
running onto him over there on the island."

"You're going to swim over, aren't you, Jerry? If the man came along
and found his boat gone, he'd know _we_ were over there and----"

"And he'd be stranded on this side until we were so kind as to bring
back his boat. You can bet _he_ isn't going to swim over, and I bet
you I don't either."

The boat proved to be a cumbersome flat-boat of the type used by
clam-fishers. In fact the smell that simply swirled up from its oozy
bottom left no doubt that the boat had been used for that purpose. A
pair of unbelievably heavy oars, cut from a sapling with a hand-axe,
trailed in the water from "loose oarlocks." Dave gave a gasp of
dismay as he "hefted" the rough implements.

"Let's swim it, Jerry," he said disgustedly. "The boat'll never hold