“Dead,” explained Walter, referring to the abrupt failure of the wind.
“Dead? Good!” murmured Richard, stretching himself full length. “O Death, where is thy sting?”
The wind had not died out completely; there was just enough breeze short of a complete calm to pilot the boat by inches and enable Walter to tack squarely off towards the farther shore.
“Hadn’t we better get in?” Jerry inquired.
“Sure!” grinned Walter; “wind over there.”
Richard shaded his eyes.
“How do you know?” he asked. The unrippled water seemed everywhere.
“Always is, with clouds going that way,” he pointed overhead.
“But there’s no sign on the surface. Seems just as dead as here.”
“You’ll see.”