The going down was much easier than the coming up, for at some distance away the shore was nearly level with the bank, and one had but to walk to reach it, no scrambling necessary. The grass, short and stubbly, was strung with fine mist and at each step Edna grew wetter and wetter, but she did not heed this, for her whole thought was centered upon Louis, and she was imagining all sorts of things. Perhaps he had drifted away in the boat far out of sight. Perhaps the boat's owner had seen him and had borne him off to be locked up for meddling with another's property. Perhaps he was really out there now on the water, hidden by the fog, and was trying to row ashore.