Landless seated himself in the bow, and turned his face away from the group in the stern. Patricia leaned back amidst her cushions, and opened a book; Darkeih, upon the other side of the rudder, held a whispered flirtation with Regulus, squatting at her feet, the tiller in his hand. There was but little wind, but what there was came from the land, and the Bluebird moved steadily though listlessly down the inlet, between the velvet marshes. The water broke against the sides of the boat with a languid murmur. It was very hot, and the sky above was of a steely, unclouded blue that hurt the eyes. Only in the southwest the line of cloud hills was erecting itself into an Alpine range. The glare of the sun upon the white pages of her book dazzled Patricia's eyes; the heat and the lazy swaying motion made her drowsy. With a sigh of oppression she closed her book, and taking her fan from Darkeih, laid it across her face, and curled herself among her cushions. "I will sleep awhile," she said to her handmaiden, and serenely glided into slumberland. She was in a balcony with Sir Charles Carew, looking down upon a fantastic procession that wound endlessly on, with flaunting banners, and to the sound of kettle-drums and trumpets, when she was aroused by Landless' voice. She opened her eyes and looked up from her nest of cushions to see him standing above her. "What is it?" she asked frigidly. "I grieve to waken you, madam, but there is a heavy squall coming up." She sat up and looked about her. The Bluebird had left the inlet and was rising and falling with the long oily swell of the vast sheet of water that stretched before them to a horizon of vivid blue. North and east the water met the sky; a mile to the westward was the low wooded shore which they were skirting. "The sun is shining," said Patricia, bewildered. "The sky is blue." "Look behind you." She turned and uttered an exclamation. The Alpine range had vanished, and a monstrous pall of gray-black cloud was being slowly drawn upward and across the smiling heaven. Even as she looked, it blotted out the sun. "We had better make for the shore at once," said Landless. "We can reach it before the storm breaks and can find shelter for you until it is over." Patricia exclaimed: "Why, we cannot be more than three miles from Rosemead! Surely we can reach it before that cloud overtakes us!" "I think not, madam." "Regulus!" cried his mistress imperiously. "We can reach Rosemead before that storm breaks, can we not?" Among other amiable qualities, Regulus numbered a happy willingness to please, even at the expense of truth. "Sho-ly, 'lil Missy," he said with emphasis. "And it will not be much of a squall, besides, will it, Regulus?" "No, 'lil Missy, not much ob squall," answered the obliging Regulus. "There is much wind in it," said Landless. "Look at those white clouds scudding across the black; and these squalls strike with suddenness and fury. I may put the boat about, madam?"