"I'll give you a dollar if you will land me at Pointville by three o'clock."
"I can't make the wind blow, if you would give me a hundred dollars."
"Can't you use the pole or the oars?" said the bank director petulantly; "you kept me waiting half an hour before you started."
"I couldn't help that," replied John Wilford.
Mr. Randall walked to the forward platform, fretting with impatience at the indifference of the ferryman. He stood for a few moments gazing at the Vermont shore, and appeared to be engaged in estimating the distance yet to be accomplished. The calculation was not satisfactory, and the bank director's wrath was on the increase. With hasty step he walked aft again.
"I think we shall have more wind in a minute," said John Wilford, as he stepped down from the platform and adjusted the sheet.
"If we don't, I shall go crazy," replied Mr. Randall.
When he had placed one foot on the platform, by some means the drop, true to its name, went down and splashed in the water. The bank director stepped back in season to save himself from a cold bath or a watery grave, as the case might be.
"My coat! save my coat!" shouted Mr. Randall, as the garment rolled off the platform into the water.
"Why didn't you hold on to it?" said John Wilford.