"She's not ill. She's jus' positive an' restless. I knows her ways well enough t' know that much."
"She might be ill."
"True, she might; but she——"
"An' if——"
Sandy Rowl, who had been staring absently up the coast toward the sea, started and exclaimed.
"Ecod!" said he. "A bank o' fog's comin' round Point-o'-Bay!"
"Man!"
"That ends it."
"'Tis a pity!"
"'Twill be thick as mud on the floe in half an hour. We must lie the night here."