He kept scanning the sky. Then, “Did you ever hear them whistle for a wind?” he asked.
“No. What is it like?”
“When Adams does it, it’s like this.” He put on a furtive look, and glanced once or twice at her askance. “Well!” he said with the reproduction of a strong nasal, “of course I don’t believe there’s anything in it. Of course it’s all foolishness. Now you must urge me a little,” he added, in his own manner.
“Oh, by all means go on, Mr. Adams,” she cried, with a laugh.
He rolled his head again to one side sheepishly.
“Well, I don’t presume it doos have anything to do with the wind—well, I don’t presume it doos.” He was silent long enough to whet an imagined expectation; then he set his face towards the sky, and began a soft, low, coaxing sibilation between his teeth. “S-s-s-s; s-s-s-s-s-s! Well, it don’t stand to reason it can bring the wind—S-s-s-s-s-s-s; s-s-s-s. Why, of course it’s all foolishness. S-s-s-s.” He continued to emit these sibilants, interspersing them with Adams’s protests. Suddenly the sail pulled the loose sheet taut and the boat leaped forward over the water.
“Wonderful!” cried the girl.
“That’s what I said to Adams, or words to that effect. But I thought we should get it from the look of the sky before I proposed to whistle for it. Now, then,” he continued, “I will be serious, if you like.”
“Serious?”
“Yes. Didn’t you ask me to be serious just before those seals interrupted you?”