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Heru and I ducked down into the haze like dab-chicks and held our breath. Straight on towards us came the toiling ship, the dip of oars resonant in the hollow fog and a ripple babbling on her cutwater plainly discernible. Oh, oh! Hoo, hoo! How high, how high!" sounded the sleepy song of the rowers till they were looming right abreast and we could smell their damp hides in the morning air.
A neighboring miller, suffering under drought, was heard to say, "There ain't water enough to float a duck; nought can swim but the dab-chicks and Muster Bassett." He was also a pedestrian, and got his father to take long walks with him, and leave the horses to eat their oats in peace.
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