s. If he lost his money, his
engagement to Evelyn must be broken off. This was obvious, but if he
had, for example, meant to marry Carrie, his embarrassments would not,
in one sense, matter much. Carrie would meet their troubles with a
smile and help him to make good. Still he must not indulge thoughts
like this.

"I think I'll take the punt and paddle up the big creek," he said.
"You can tell Carrie she ought to have come back to give me tea. Since
she hasn't come, I'll wait for dinner."

He went off and Mrs. Winter mused. Jim generally knew what he wanted,
but his attitude was puzzling now. Although he meant to marry Evelyn
and imagined he loved her, Mrs. Winter doubted. She wondered whether
Evelyn had, so to speak, dazzled him by her grace and beauty. Jim was
resolute and practical, but not clever. Mrs. Winter sighed and
imagined she had been foolish to let Carrie stay so long, but she could
not see her way. Jim would not be married until he had drained the
marsh and Jake would not go before the work was finished. Mrs. Winter
admitted that he could not go.

In the meantime, Jim launched his shooting-punt in a muddy creek. The
punt would carry two people and measured about eighteen feet long and
nearly three feet wide. She was decked, except for a short well, and
when loaded floated a few inches above the water. A bundle of reeds
was fastened across the head-ledge of the well to hide the occupant
when he lay down and used the short paddle.

Jim stood on the after-deck and drove the punt down the creek with a
pole. He could see across the bank, and the wet marsh, glistening
faintly in the moonlight, ran back into thin mist. In front, the creek
got wider until it melted into the expanse of sands. Here and there a
belt of smooth mud caught a silvery reflection, but for the most part
the sands were dark. The night was calm and the advancing surf rumbled
in the distance like a heavy train. It was a good night for shooting
and Jim wondered whether anybody else was about. Mordaunt and Dick now
and then went after the geese, and Shanks, in his shooting punt,
generally haunted the channels when the gaggles came down to feed.

It was some time after low-water when Jim reached the main channel and
stopped to listen. He thought the surf was unusually loud, but he
could not hear the geese. The wild cry of a curlew came out of the
dark and red-shanks were whistling in the distance. The water, so far
as