It was a long time before they found the place where the river left the pool. They had rowed right across the opening once, being afraid to go too near the reeds. At last they decided that even if anyone saw a light here he would not suspect what it was, and used their electric torches. Roger could not get at his, but he used John’s, as John was rowing. Susan had her own. Even with the torches it was difficult. A pale light lit up, now here, now there, a patch of quivering reeds. But on either side of the patch of light was darkness. As they moved, the darkness turned to reeds when the round circle of light fell on it. At last they found a place where the lights showed a patch of reeds on each side, but nothing but darkness between them.
“This must be the opening,” said John.
He pulled a stroke or two towards the darkness. There was still clear water round the Swallow , but the torches showed reeds on right and left. The reeds were all bent the same way and, though John was resting on his oars, the Swallow drifted on in the direction in which the reeds were sloping. She was in the river at last.
John let the stream take the Swallow with it, using the oars only when she touched the reeds on either side.
“Don’t wave your torch in the air, Susan,” he said, “or someone may see us. We must be getting near the house. Put yours out, Roger. We don’t want to rouse the natives.”
Once or twice they ran into the reeds at bends of the river, but they freed themselves without difficulty.
Presently they saw the lights of the big house, standing away from the water.
“We must be near the boathouse now,” said John.
“Here it is,” said Susan.