Again the boat dropped down the stream silently. The way was long; seven miles is a good deal in a row-boat; so they took it leisurely and enjoyed to the full the consciousness that it _was_ a long way, and they should have a great deal of it. By and by they came to a little rocky island or promontory, connected with the mainland by marsh meadows at least if by nothing more, to get round which they had to make quite a wide sweep. When they had passed it and drew into the shore again, they were already nearing the southern hills which from Mosswood looked so distant and seemed to lock into one another. They had the same seeming still, though standing out now in brighter tints and new and detailed beauty. On and on the little boat went, coasting along. No further break in the line of shore for a good while; only they were nearing and nearing that nest of hills. At last they came abreast of one or two houses, where a well-defined road came down to the river. "Do we land here?" asked Flora. "Not yet. Round on the other side of that bluff we shall come to a creek, with a mill; that is the place. Are you in a hurry?" "I should like to sail so all day!" They floated down with the tide and a little movement of the oars; there was absolutely no wind. The sloops and schooners in the river drifted or swung at anchor. Hardly a leaf moved on a stem. The tide ran fast, however, and the little boat slipped easily past the gay banks, with their kaleidoscope changes of colour. This piece of the way nevertheless seemed long, just because the inexperienced were constantly expecting it to come to an end; but on and on the boat glided, and there was never a creek or a mill to be seen. "Uncle Eden," said Maggie, "there _used_ to be a creek here somewhere." "Certainly." "There is none here now," said Flora. "That you see." "I can look along the shore for a good way, Mr. Murray. Are we going quite down to those mountains?" "No. You will see the creek presently." "The banks seem without the least break in them." "It will not do to trust to appearances. Have you not found that out yet?" "I tell you what, I'm getting hungry," said Fenton, who was taking his turn at the oars. "Eleven o'clock. You will have to control your impatience for some time yet," said Meredith. "I can tell you, this boat is awfully heavy," said Fenton. He had meant to use a stronger word, but changed it. "Can't we get lunch by twelve?" "Oh no! we shall have some reading first, I guess," said Maggie. "Lunch at twelve? Why, you never have it till one, Fenton." "Makes a difference whether you are pulling a dozen people and forty baskets along," rejoined her brother. "It's an awful bore, to have to do things." There was a general merry burst at that. "What sort of things, Fenton? Do you want to live like a South Sea Island savage?" his uncle asked.