We coasted along in this silent fashion, nearly as far as the hamlet and bridge, following, but farther inshore, the course which Master Lindstrom and I had taken when on our way to bury the Spaniard. A certain point gained, at a signal from our host we struck out into the open, and rowed swiftly toward the edge of the marsh. This was the critical moment; but, so far as we could learn, our passage was unnoticed. We reached the fringe of rushes; with a prolonged hissing sound the boat pushed through them; a flight of water-fowl rose, whirring and clapping about us, and we floated out into a dim misty lake, whose shores and surface stretched away on every side, alike dark, shifting, and uncertain. Across this the Dutchman steered us, bringing us presently to a narrow opening, through which we glided into a second and smaller mere. At the farther end of this one the way seemed barred by a black, impenetrable wall of rushes, which rose far above our heads. But the tall stems bent slowly with many a whispered protest before our silent onset, and we slid into a deep water-lane, here narrow, there widening into a pool, in one place dark, in another reflecting the gray night sky. Down this we sped swiftly, the sullen plash of the oars and the walls of rushes always with us. For ourselves, we crouched still and silent, shivering and listening for sounds of pursuit; now starting at the splash of a frog, again shuddering at the cry of a night-bird. The Duchess, her child, and I were in the bows, Master Lindstrom, his daughter, and Mistress Anne in the stern. They had made me comfortable with the baggage and some warm coverings, and would insist on treating me as helpless. Even when the others began to talk in whispers, the Duchess enjoined silence on me, and bade me sleep. Presently I did so, my last impression one of unending water-ways and shoreless, shadowy lakes. When I awoke the sun was high and the scene was changed indeed. We lay on the bosom of a broad river, our boat seeming now to stand still as the sail flapped idly, now to heel over and shoot forward as the light breeze struck us. The shores abreast of us were still low and reedy, but ahead the slopes of green wooded hills rose gently from the stream. Master Bertie was steering, and, seeing me lift my head, greeted me with a smile. The girls in the stern were covered up and asleep. Amidships, too, Master Lindstrom and Van Tree had curled themselves up between the thwarts, and were slumbering peacefully. I turned to look for the Duchess, and found her sitting wide awake at my elbow, her eyes on her husband. "Well," she said smiling, "do you feel better now? You have had a good sleep." "How long have I been asleep, please?" I asked, bewildered by the sunshine, by the shining river and the green hills, by the fresh morning air, by the change in everything; and answering in a question, as people freshly aroused do nine times out of ten. "Where are we?"