[ Grout's pride struggles fiercely against his complete lack of wagon-related knowledge. He's not exactly a fan of admitting that he doesn't have a clue. But at the same time, they need to figure something out here. Every stride of the oxen and turn of the wheels brings them closer to the water, and with a certainty like that, pride starts to look more and more like wilful ignorance. And wilful ignorance is unforgivable.

_{Self-important ass.} ]

I may give the impression of a savant,

[ He's kidding. Probably. The perpetually dry and meandering quality of his voice makes it difficult to tell. ]

But on this subject, I am as out of my depth as our wagon will be shortly. I... suppose if the water is shallow enough we might simply drive straght across, but our wheels and the oxen's hooves would be ill-equipped if the riverbed harboured quicksand or something of that nature.

[ Quicksand is found in water, right? He thinks so.

The invisible peanut gallery keeps up its comments at the slow pace of the wagon's rock and creak, and he listens in case they have insight, but... no, they seem happy to babble. ]