We rowed along and came to the inlet. There was a lot of marsh grassand deep-growing reeds, and clear water between that stretched awayinland. It made a straight line between the water reeds leading up toa triangle of three trees. There was a little yellow home in themiddle of the triangle, with two lit windows.

I says: "Monson! Somebody's squatted on it!"

"What!" he says.

Somebody was singing in the house. Monson looked around from hisrowing, and found it somewhat funny to his mind, for he laughed with aroar, and the singing stopped short.

"Turn into the reeds!" I says, and we crouched there in the boat.