“Well —­ no,” said Winthrop looking at the river; “I shall have a pull up, but I shall hardly hear any news of that to-morrow.”

“It will make them despise you!”

“That would be rather an effect upon them,” said Winthrop, throwing the loosened chain into the boat’s head and stepping in himself; —­ “as it strikes me.”

“I wish you would take my advice,” said Rufus.

“Which?” said his brother.

“Let them alone!”

“I will,” said Winthrop; “I mean that.”

“You are excessively provoking!”

“Are you sure?” said Winthrop smiling.  “What do you propose that I should do, Rufus?”

“Send Sam Doolittle in your place.”

“Willingly; but it happens that he could not fill my place.  You must see that.”

“And are you going to bring up their baggage and all?”

“I must know the sum of two unknown quantities before I can tell whether it is just equal to a boat-load.”

Rufus stood on the shore, biting his lip.  The little boat was silently slipping out from between the rocks, after a light touch or two of the oars, when Asahel came bounding down the road and claimed Winthrop’s promise for a place in it.

“You don’t want this child with you!” said Rufus.

But Winthrop gave one or two pushes in the reverse direction and with great skill laid the skiff alongside of the rock.  Asahel jumped in triumphantly, and again slowly clearing the rocks the little boat took the tide and the impulse of a strong arm at once, and shot off down the stream.

They kept the mid-channel, and with its swift current soon came abreast of the high out-jutting headland behind which the waters turned and hid themselves from the home view.  Diver’s Rock, it was called, from some old legend now forgotten.  A few minutes more, and the whole long range of the river below was plain in sight, down to a mountain several miles off, behind which it made yet another sharp turn and was again lost.  In that range the river ran a little west of south; just before rounding Diver’s Rock its direction was near due east, so that the down tide at the turn carried them well over towards the eastern shore.  That was what they wanted, as Cowslip’s mill was on that side.  So keeping just far enough from the shore to have the full benefit of the ebb, they fell softly and quick down the river; with a changing panorama of rocks and foliage at their side, the home promontory of Shahweetah lying in sight just north of them, and over it the heads of the northern mountains; while a few miles below, where the river made its last turn, the mountains on either side locked into one another and at once checked and rested the eye.  The lines of ground there were beautiful; the western light sported among them, dividing hill from hill, and crowning their heads with its bright glory.  It was the dynasty of the East, just then.  The eastern mountains sat in stately pride; and their retainers, the woods, down to the water side, glittered in the royal green and silver; for on their fresh unsullied leaves the light played with many a sheen.  The other shore was bright enough still; but the shadows were getting long and the sun was getting low, and the contrast was softly and constantly growing.