“You minx! Halloa, Tom! Hold up a moment. Drop anchor here. I want to stop.” They were near to the farther bank. “Here, Pierre, put your canoe alongside. Are you all right, Anne?”
“Perfectly.”
“I want to show you something before the sun is too high. Can you sketch here, Rose? The boat is pretty quiet?”
“I am not sure; I can try.”
“How much darker it is, Tom!”
“Yes, sir. It’s the smoke. It’s been about a bit for a day or two. Now the wind’s to south, it’s gettin’ kind of thicker. There’s a big fire somewhere.”
“How far?”
“Might be a hundred miles away. ‘Heap big smudge,’ Polycarp says.”
“Look now,” said Lyndsay. “Try to get me these water-tints. Take a bit of it.”
“I can’t. What makes these colors? They are beyond me.”