“I never saw them before!” she cried. “How wonderful they are! Oh!” she shouted; as one of them glanced sadly at her over its shoulder, and then vanished with a whirl of the head. “The Beatrice Cenci attitude!” “They’re always trying that,” said Libby. “Look yonder.” He pointed to a bank of mud which the tide had not yet covered, and where a herd of seals lay basking in the sun. They started at his voice, and wriggling and twisting and bumping themselves over the earth to the water’s edge, they plunged in. “Their walk isn’t so graceful as their swim. Would you like one for a pet, Miss Breen? That’s all they’re good for since kerosene came in. They can’t compete with that, and they’re not the kind that wear the cloaks.” She was standing with her hand pressed hard upon his shoulder. “Did they ever _kill_ them?” “They used to take that precaution.” “With those eyes? It was murder!” She withdrew her hand and sat down. “Well, they only catch them, now. I tried it myself once. I set out at low tide, about ten o’clock, one night, and got between the water and the biggest seal on the bank. We fought it out on that line till daylight.” “And did you get it?” she demanded, absurdly interested. “No, it got me. The tide came in, and the seal beat.” “I am glad of that.” “Thank you.” “What did you want with it?” “I don’t think I wanted it at all. At any rate, that’s what I always said. I shall have to ask you to sit on this side,” he added, loosening the sheet and preparing to shift the sail. “The wind has backed round a little more to the south, and it’s getting lighter.” “If it’s going down we shall be late,” she said, with an intimation of apprehension. “We shall be at Leyden on time. If the wind falls then, I can get a horse at the stable and have you driven back.” “Well.” 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.