He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, and was dimly aware of the area of the numbness that bordered the centre that was sensationless between his eyebrows, as he said: "Well, children, rowing won't fetch us to the Marquesas.

We'll need a stretch of wind for that.

But it's up to us, right now, to put a mile or so between us an' that peevish old cow.

Maybe she'll revive, and maybe she won't, but just the same I can't help feelin' leary about her.".