They went slowly forward and were soon among the houses. On the front platform of one a man sat fishing. A little naked boy slid down into the water from another, swimming as though born to the water. Both stared at Anina curiously as she passed slowly by, but they said nothing. A girl looked out of the window of another house and waved her hand in friendly greeting, which Anina answered. Mercer, lying with all but his face covered by the cloth, could see only the sides of the boat, the bottom of the cross-seat over his head, and Anina as she sat above him in the stern. "Where do you suppose the Tao people hang out around here?" he suddenly asked. "If we could--" The girl silenced him with a gesture. He lowered his voice. "Try and find out where they are, Anina," he whispered. Anina steered the boat directly under several of the houses, which must have been quite a usual proceeding, for it attracted no attention. A girl flew close to them once, and Anina called to her. The girl alighted on the stern of the boat for a moment; Mercer slid the cloth over his face and held himself motionless. Then he heard Anina's voice calling to him softly. He slid the cloth back; the girl had gone. "She says Tao's men live, there--large house, of wood," said Anina, pointing off to one side. Mercer nearly rapped his head against the seat above him in his excitement. "You know which house? Let's go there. Maybe we can hear what they're saying. Can we get under it?" She nodded. "Let's try, Anina," he said eagerly. "You steer us slow right under it, just as if you were going past. If there's nobody in sight you can stop underneath, can't you? Maybe we can hear what they're saying." "I try," the girl said simply. "I'll lay still," encouraged Mercer. "Nobody will bother about you. Just sneak in and see what happens. If anybody sees you, keep going." He was all excitement, and in spite of Anina's protests wriggled about continually, trying to see where they were. The house that the girl had pointed out lay only a few hundred yards ahead. It was one of the largest of the wooden buildings--sixty or seventy feet long at least--single story, with a high sloping thatched roof. It was raised on a platform some six feet above the water, which, in front, had a little flight of wooden steps leading down to the surface. There was a hundred feet of open water on all sides of the building. The boat, moving slowly, slipped through the water almost without a sound. "Where are we now?" Mercer whispered impatiently. "Aren't we there yet?" The girl put a finger to her lips. "Almost there. Quiet now." She steered straight for the house. There was no one in sight, either about the house itself or about those in its immediate vicinity. A moment more and the boat slid beneath the building into semidarkness.