They flew with their delicate
necks bent back upon their bodies, as swans afloat upon still water,
their long legs held motionless and straight behind; yet they moved
rapidly, moved steadily and to a definite goal some place eastward up
the river.
"Beautiful! A dream worth the trip alone!"
To Roger's amazement the man in overalls started at the words with
something like alarm in his expression; but as his shrewd blue eyes
took them in they showed relief.
"What are they?" asked Roger.
The man's expression took upon itself a mask of disinterest, almost
sullenness.
"What you talking about?"
"Those birds up there?"
"Didn't see any birds. Looking to see if it would rain."
"Well, look now. What are they?"
The man refused to look.
"Donno. Donno anything about birds."
Payne looked at him closely and was puzzled. The man's obvious
appearance of intelligence rendered such a reply unnatural.
The stranger returned the scrutiny, appraising the pair with a lazy air
of indifference, which did not quite conceal his shrewdness.
"What you-all doing here? Fishing?"
"Hiding."
"Come on the Swastika?"
"Yes."
"She's sailing."
"Yes; that's why we're hiding. We're not going back on her." Roger's
eyes had not left the man's. Each had appraised the other and given a
favorable verdict.
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