The floating cloudland was pearl gray above and rose pink beneath; and that streak of “fresh paint” on the horizon line separated this cloudland from the dull blue water.
The sun would soon pop up above the eastern sea line, despite Ikey’s pessimism, and his coming rays were already touching lightly the clouds above.
“Look at that! Isn’t it great?” breathed Whistler. “Why, you can just about see through that cloud. It doesn’t seem real.”
“Clouds aren’t supposed to be very solid,” scoffed Ikey, unappreciative of the poetry in his mate’s nature. “Only air and water.”
“Huh! Two of the three principal elements,” snapped Whistler. “Where’s your science, smart boy? And that plane of cloud——”
“Looks just like the flat sea below it,” suggested Ikey, his interest growing.
“You’re right, it does!” admitted Whistler. “See! I believe that cloud is a reflection of the sea beneath. I bet it isn’t a cloud at all!”
“Then I guess I was right,” chuckled Ikey. “Nothing very real about it, is there?”
Mr. MacMasters came forward along the Colodia’s deck just as Ikey made this reply. He addressed the two friends smilingly:
“What is all the excitement, boys? Haven’t spotted a submarine, have you, Rosenmeyer?”