The Shark shook his head. “Trouble is, folks don’t realize the need of precision. They’ll make a guess at the temperature, and let it go at that. Bah!”
Varley, not knowing what response to make, said nothing.
The Shark resumed his staring at the fire. There was another pause, even longer than that which had gone before. Varley at last pulled out his watch, and uttered an exclamation of vexation.
“Thunder! The thing’s stopped—must have been caused by that fall. What time do you suppose it is?”
“Don’t know. Left my watch at home to-day,” said the Shark.
Varley sprang up—then groaned at the pangs he suffered as the result of his incautious haste of movement. He looked out of the window, his face lengthening.
“Cracky! but it’s getting mighty dark! And the rain’s fairly coming down in buckets. I can’t see any distance. But unless I’m amazingly mistaken—say, look here, will you?”
The Shark joined him.
“What’s that out there? Looks like a regular lake!” Paul cried.
The Shark made deliberate inspection. Close to the old house was now an expanse of water, probably not very deep, but certainly of considerable area.