e dignified title of "Marine
and Yachting Stores." Here Tommy invested in the paraffin and one or
two other trifles he needed, and then turning off down some slippery
stone steps, we came out on the beach. Before us stretched a long bare
sweep of mud and sand, while out beyond lay the Ray Channel, with a
number of small boats and fishing-smacks anchored along its narrow
course.

"There's the _Betty_," said Tommy, pointing to a smart-looking little
clinker-built craft away at the end of the line. "I've had her painted
since you saw her last."

"And from what I remember, Tommy," I said, "she wanted it--badly."

Joyce seated herself on a baulk of timber and began composedly to take
off her shoes and stockings. "How deep does one sink in?" she asked.
"I don't want to get this skirt dirtier than I can help."

"You'll be all right if you hold it well up," said Tommy, "unless we
happen to strike a quicksand."

"Well, you must go first," said Joyce, "then if we do, Neil and I can
step on you."

Tommy chuckled, and sitting down on the bank imitated Joyce's example,
rolling his trousers up over the knee. I followed suit, and then,
gathering up our various belongings, we started off gingerly across
the mud.

Tommy led the way, his shoes slung over his shoulder, and a tin of
paraffin in each hand. He evidently knew the lie of the land, for he
picked out the firmest patches with remarkable dexterity, keeping
on looking back to make sure that Joyce and I were following in his
footsteps. It was nasty, sloppy walking at the best, however, for
every step one took one went in with a squelch right up to the ankle,
and I think we had all had pretty well enough by the time we reached
the boat. Poor Joyce, indeed, was so exhausted that she had to sit
down on the lunch basket, while Tommy and I, by means of wading out
into the channel, managed to get hold of the dinghy.

Our first job on getting aboard was to wash off the mud. We sat in a
row along the deck with our feet over the side; Tommy flatly refusing
to allow us any farther until we were all properly cleaned. Then,
while Joyce was drying herself and putting on her shoes and stockings,
he and I went down into the cabin and routed out a bottle of whisky
and a siphon of soda from somewhere under the floor.

"What we want," he observed, "is a good stiff peg all round"; and the
motion being carried unanimously as far as Joyce and I were concerned,
three good stiff pegs were acco