Through the
intervening space of rain they seemed like pictures of spectres, misty
and unsubstantial.
"The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide," said Townsend cheerily. "I
think when it comes in it's going to stop raining, that's what I think.
It's going to clear up and be warm this afternoon, you see. Rain
before seven, clear before eleven. What do you say we catch some of
those killies and fry them?"
"That's what you call an inspiration," said Roly Poly.
They caught some killies with a bent pin and fried them and they were
not half bad.
Along about eleven o'clock the tide began running up, the killies which
had not been lured to their undoing, disappeared in the swelling water,
and soon the ripples danced up over the mud, submerging it entirely.
The river began to be attractive again. And then the sun came out.
"This is going to be some peach of a tide for races," said Townsend;
"it will be good and full after such an all night rain."
At two o'clock, when the river was about half full, a launch came
chugging up from the boat club bringing a flag and the young fellow who
was to be posted at the turning point. He planted the flag on its tall
standard near the shore and settled down to mind his own business.
Pee-wee received him as if he were a foreign ambassador.
Our hero was now so intent upon his commercial enterprise that he
forgot all about the races except in their commercial aspect. The
island was but the turning point for the contestants and seemed
detached from the excitement and preparations which prevailed down at
the club house.
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