We had gone but a little way when our rudder-cable snapped, the steering-wheel turned useless, and Gadabout headed for the marsh woods.  She minded none of our makeshift devices to shape her course; and we were forced to stop the engine and resort to a more primitive motive power.

The sailor dropped an end of a long pole into the water at the bow of the houseboat and, bending heavily upon the other end, slowly pushed her forward as he walked aft along the guard.  Steadily back and forth he paced the rail; steadily, silently, we floated down the stream.

And the silence of our going took hold of us, as we sat lazily in the bow.  How in keeping it all seemed with the quiet of the day, the calm of the stream, and the stillness of the woods!  And how out of keeping now seemed Gadabout’s noisy entrance into that tranquil scene!

“I feel quite apologetic,” said Nautica.  “Look at these great solemn trees, just like an assemblage of forest philosophers in the hush of silent deliberation.”

“We must have stirred them up a bit,” replied the Commodore, “with our puffing and ringing.  But I don’t think they are deliberating.  I believe they are asleep.  It seems more like the hush of poppy-land in here to me.”

“Yes, that is just it.”  And the answer really came quite dreamily.  “This is the hush of poppy-land, and we are drifting on the quiet brown waterway that leads through the sleepy, endless afternoon.”

And the notion pleased, and so did the languor and the heavy content.  Slowly and steadily the sailor and the long pole went up and down the guard; slowly and steadily the houseboat moved down the stream.

Now we were skirting the bolder bank where the pines bent heavy heads over the water, the holly crowded close to the shore, and pale tinted reeds made border at the water’s edge.  Now in rounding a curve, we passed close to the cypress wood fringed with bush and sedge.  Delicate brown festoons of vines hung from the branches; and, high out of reach, mats of mistletoe clung.  It seemed one with our mood and our fancy when two round yellow eyes stared out of the shadows, two wide lazy wings were spread, and the bird of daylight slumber took soft, noiseless flight.  We were just getting fully in the humour of our new way of travel, drifting on in the world of laze-and-dream, when the whole thing came to an end.  A familiar voice from the world of up-and-do was in our ears, and there was Leaning Tree Landing just ahead.

We anchored out in the channel until low tide; then, after sounding about the landing and finding a good depth of water and no obstructions, we drew Gadabout in, bow to the bank, and made fast.  We felt almost as though she were a real, true cottage, with that solid land at her door and her roof among the branches.