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An aide-de-camp in a gorgeous uniform of gold and blue came forward and touched his forehead with the back of his brown palm and said in good English: "His Highness awaits your excellencies." We stepped into the boat. The men lightly dipped their spear-shaped paddles in the tepid water, the rattan oarlocks squeaked shrilly, and the light prow shot out into the strait.
There were oars in the boat. I had noticed these dumbly before, but now I drew them eagerly forth from the bottom, and quickly fitted them into the oarlocks. They were stout, ashen blades, unusually large for the craft in which they had been stowed, yet workable.
"No, sir," said Jimmy, "we wouldn't turn up our nose at anything good to eat." "I could eat the oarlocks this minute!" broke in Bobby. At which Captain Higgles exclaimed, "My eyes! Oh, my eyes!" and indulged in another burst of hearty guffaws. "Well, b'ys," said the captain, "I know how you feels, an' I knows where you'll get th' tea and th' biscuit.
"Don't!" shrieked Warde. "Doughnut?" called Pee-wee. "No, I said 'don't'," called Warde. "You'll have me eating one of the oarlocks in a minute." Soon a faint chugging could be heard; it ceased, presumably at the Skybrow lawn, then started again. Nearer and nearer it came until presently the racing boat of Dashway Speeder came to a stop alongside them.
Down at the boathouse even Tessie, who had confessed ignorance of boats and oars, knew that Ballou was fumbling clumsily. He stooped to adjust the oars to the oarlocks. His hat was off. His hair looked very gray in the cruel spring sunshine. He straightened and smiled up at her. "Ready in a minute, sweetheart," he said. He took off his collar and turned in the neckband of his shirt.
I joined them and, launching and reloading the canoes again, with Richards and Easton in one canoe and Pete and I in the other, we followed Fred and Stanton, who preceded us in the rowboat, keeping our canoes religiously within earshot of Fred's thumping oarlocks. Finally the fog lifted, and not far away we caught a glimmer of lights at the French Post.
"Do you really think white people have had the boat? I do not see anything that would make you think so." "If they were savages they wouldn't use the oarlocks or notches, as they row free-hand, almost without exception; but get a white man in a boat, and the first thing he looks for is a place to put his oars in.
With only a moment's hesitation she plunged into the lake, and struck obliquely across. Her tired legs could not propel the tired body rapidly. She saw the boat headed for her. She turned toward the centre of the lake. The boat turned. She could hear the rattle of the oarlocks. It was gaining on her. Then there was a silence.
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