Several boats were drawn up on the beach, by a creel of nets and some lobster pots, while Olaf's sharpie was anchored in deep water a little way offshore.
It was late when the horses turned homeward after leaving their loads; it had been a beautiful afternoon, neither too warm nor too cool.

"Oh!" exclaimed Dodo, "now that the horses have gone, the good time will begin; for we can't go back even if we want to." The children amused themselves for some time in looking at their new quarters, and then in watching Olaf row out to light the beacon lamps.
When it grew dusk they had supper, wondering at the strange stillness of the evening; for, though it was usually very quiet at the Farm, they had never before known the silence that falls with the twilight on a shore where the water does not rush and beat as on the ocean beaches, but simply laps lazily to and fro, like the swinging of a hammock.
Presently the stars began to give good-evening winks at the beacons--first one, then another and another, until the whole sky twinkled; while one evening star, the brightest of them all, hurried along the west as if it were trying to overtake the sun, and knew that it was fully half an hour behind the jolly god of day.
"See how the tide is coming in," said Rap, when they returned to the beach.

"When Olaf went out, he had to push his boat ever so far, and now the water is almost up to the line of seaweeds and shells." "I wonder what makes the water go in and out ?" questioned Dodo, half to herself.
"I don't exactly know," said Rap; "but I think it is because the earth goes round every day, making the water tip from one side to the other and then back again." "Then why doesn't it all tip off into the sky ?" persisted Dodo.
"I guess--because--that is, I don't know," stammered Rap.

"I must ask Uncle Roy to tell us, and why the earth down here on the shore stays sharp and gritty when it is wet; for when the earth up at the Farm is wet, it makes sticky mud," said Dodo.
"Yes," said Nat, "and why the stars are of such different sizes, and seem to stay quite still, except some that go along like that big bright one over there." "Quok! Quok!" cried a strange voice from the marshes back of the beach.
"Quok, quok, quok, quok!" answered other voices.
"What can that be ?" said Nat; "it isn't a Whip-poor-will, or a Nighthawk--it must be one of the cannibal birds.

Uncle Roy, what kind of birds are those calling away over in the marshes ?" But the Doctor was not within hearing, and it was some time before they found him, sitting by the cabin door smoking his pet outdoor pipe, which was made of a corn-cob.
"Did you hear the Night Herons calling as you came up ?" he asked.
"We heard a very queer squawky sound, and came to ask you what it was, for we couldn't guess," said Nat.