"The tide is running into the bay, and it was running pretty strong at the bridge. We can drift along with it, and row very easy," said Tom. "How far down is the light-house?" asked Joe. "Well, it's half way down the bay, so it can't be more than five miles from where we are. We can certainly get there before night." So the two oarsmen rowed easily onward, without bending their backs enough to tire themselves, and frequently resting altogether and letting the boat drift. Joe grew restless after a time, and threw himself down on his back on the bottom of the boat, and began to sing. This was more than Harry could stand, for Joe's singing reminded every one who heard it, of the singing of a cat on the back fence. Harry tried to poke him gently with an oar, but unluckily he hit the compass, knocked it over, and broke it. "Now we're in a nice fix," exclaimed Charley. "We won't find the light-house to-night, and the best thing we can do is to try to find the shore." "Here's a little cat's-paw," said Tom. "Sha'n't we get the sail up?" "I suppose we might as well. The wind is probably from the southwest, for that is the way it was blowing this morning." The sails were set, and as the breeze increased, the _Ghost_ began to skim over the water. "What are we going to do when we reach the east end of Shinnecock Bay?" asked Charley, after a while. "Why, I suppose," Harry replied, "we'll have to turn round and sail back again." "Why not get over into Peconic Bay, and come home through the Sound? According to the chart, the two bays are only a mile apart at Canoe Place, and there is a pond half a mile wide lying just in the middle of the neck of land that separates them, so we should only have to make two carries of a quarter of a mile each." "But how do we know that there isn't a big hill, or something of that kind, in the way?" asked Harry. "The reason why it is called Canoe Place must be that the Indians used to carry their canoes across from one bay to the other. Now if canoes can be carried across, the road can't be very hilly. The chances are that we should find nothing worse than a level meadow, and if we could get a team of horses, I believe we could get the _Ghost_ into Peconic Bay." "It strikes me," interrupted Joe, "that we'd better find out where we are now before we lay plans for what we're going to do next week. We may sail around in this fog and never find the shore for three or four days. This must be a pretty big bay, for there's a regular long swell here." "Oh, nonsense, Joe! we'll come to land in a few minutes now," replied Charley. "You weren't with us the time we were lost in a fog on Brandt Lake. That's a little bit of a lake, but we rowed nearly all night before we struck the shore." "Never mind about that now, Joe," said Tom. "We want to talk about Charley's plan for getting into the Sound. I'm in favor of it if it can be done, for it would be a great deal better than sailing back over the same ground twice."