essfully, it galloped on, and left us none
the worse for it. If we did not, it meant, perhaps, that its foaming white
mane brushed our shoulders, or swept across our laps, or, worse still,
drowned our guns. Once, indeed, we were threatened with something a little
more serious. We were running down out of the Connecticut River, gliding
smoothly over sleek water. It was delicious rowing, and the boat shot
along swiftly. As we turned westward, it grew rougher, but we were paying
no special heed to this when suddenly I became conscious of something dark
over my right shoulder. I turned my head, and found myself looking up into
the evil heart of a dull green breaker. I gasped, "Look out!" and dug my
oar. Jonathan glanced, pulled, there was a moment of doubt, then the huge
dark bulk was shouldering heavily away, off our starboard quarter. It was
only the first of its ugly company. Through sheer carelessness, we had
run, as it were, into an ambush--one of the worst bits of water on the
Sound, where tide and river currents meet and wrangle. All around us were
rearing, white-maned breakers, though the impression we got was less of
their white manes than of their dark sides as they rose over us. Our
problem was to meet each one fairly, and yet snatch every moment of
respite to slant off toward the harborage inside the breakwaters. It took
all our strength and all our skill, and all the resources of the good
little boat. But we made it, after perhaps half an hour of stiff work.
Then we rested, breathed, and went on. We did not talk much about it until
we made camp that night. Then, as we sat looking out over the quiet water,
I told Jonathan about the shadow over my shoulder.

"It was like seeing a ghost," I said,--"no--more like feeling the hand of an
enemy on your shoulder."

"The Black Douglas," suggested Jonathan.

"Yes. Talk about the scientific attitude--you've just got to personify
things when they come at you like that. That wave had an expression--an
ugly one. I don't wonder the Northmen felt as they did about the sea and
the waves. They took it all personally--they had to!"

"Were you frightened?" asked Jonathan.

"No, of course not," I said, almost too promptly. Then I meditated--"I
don't know what you'd call it--but I believe I understand now what people
mean when they talk about their hearts going down into their boots."

"Did yours?"

"Why, not exactly--but--well--it certainly did feel suddenly very thick and
h