Hugh tried it, at first with amusing results, and Nick had to dig hard at times to keep the craft in its course. But after a while the bow paddler became more adept. Then Nick tried to teach him to turn his blade as it left the water, but that trick was for the present beyond the novice. Once Hugh lost his paddle entirely and they had to float downstream after it. They went some two miles in the direction of Needham Falls, by which time the neighboring town was in sight across the fields, and then pulled the nose of the canoe up on the bank and rested. The afternoon was still and the October sunlight warm, and Hugh, for one, was ready for the respite. They laid themselves full length on a bed of yellowing marsh grass, pillowing their heads in their clasped hands, and pulled their caps over their eyes. “Paddling a canoe’s harder work than I fancied,” mused Hugh, conscious of lame muscles. “You’ll soon get onto it. The next time you’d better try the stern.” “I suppose that’s more difficult.” “A little. You’ve got to steer, too, you see. But it isn’t hard once you’ve got the hang of it. Funny you’ve never done any canoeing.” “Yes, I dare say. I’ve punted a bit, and I’ve rowed some, but you don’t find many canoes on the other side except on the Thames. And mother was always rather shy about letting me go on the water.” “It must be dandy on that Thames of yours,” said Nick. “I’ve read about the races, you know, and all that; houseboats lined up along the shore and Johnnies in flannels paddling about and colored lanterns and so on. Must be great!” “I dare say. I never saw but one boat race. That was the time you――we――the American crew beat us――them.” “You’re getting mixed, ’Ighness!” laughed Nick. “You don’t know whether you’re United States or English.” “It’s a bit confusing,” agreed Hugh. “Of course, I really am English, because my father is English and I was born over there. But sometimes it seems awfully much as though I weren’t, you know! Since I’ve been here I feel as if I really belonged, if you know――――” “If I know what you mean; I do, old man. Just the same, Hugh, you’d be in an awful mess if we ever went to war with England, wouldn’t you? What would you do then?” Hugh shook his head soberly. “I don’t know, really. I fancy, though, I’d stick with dad. I couldn’t do anything else, could I?” “I don’t see how you could. Wouldn’t it be touching when you and I met on the trampled field of battle? ‘Why, hello, ’Ighness!’ I’d say. ‘How’s the boy? Take that!’ And I’d biff you one on the side of the head. And you’d say, smiling pleasantly: ‘Well, well, if it isn’t me old friend Nick! I’m chawmed to meet you, Nick. Pardon me, but I’ve got to hand you this!’ And then you’d stick a bayonet into my ribs. Or, no, you wouldn’t, either, because you’d be an officer, I guess; maybe Field Marshal Ordway; and so you’d let me have it with a sword! And then you’d get the Victoria Cross for bravery.”