And we did. After a breakfast delicious as the supper, we took our boat and a lunch-basket, and set out. 'But how shall we ever find our way back?' I said, pausing as I recalled the network of runs, and the will-o'-the-wisp aspect of the house, the previous evening. 'There is no other way but to take a large ball of cord with you, fasten one end on shore, and let it run out over the stern of the boat,' said Roxana. 'Let it run out loosely, and it will float on the water. When you want to come back you can turn around and wind it in as you come. _I_ can read the Flats like a book, but they're very blinding to most people; and you might keep going round in a circle. You will do better not to go far, anyway. I'll wind the bugle on the roof an hour before sunset; you can start back when you hear it; for it's awkward getting supper after dark.' With this musical promise we took the clew of twine which Roxana rigged for us in the stern of our boat, and started away, first releasing Captain Kidd, who was pacing his islet in sullen majesty, like another Napoleon on St. Helena. We took a new channel and passed behind the house, where the imported cattle were feeding in their little pasture; but the winding stream soon bore us away, the house sank out of sight, and we were left alone. We had fine sport that morning among the ducks,--wood, teal, and canvas-back,--shooting from behind our screens woven of rushes; later in the day we took to fishing. The sun shone down, but there was a cool September breeze, and the freshness of the verdure was like early spring. At noon we took our lunch and a _siesta_ among the water-lilies. When we awoke we found that a bittern had taken up his position near by, and was surveying us gravely:-- "'The moping bittern, motionless and stiff, That on a stone so silently and stilly Stands, an apparent sentinel, as if To guard the water-lily,'"