The waves look as if they were dead." So we went back the way we had come, and she pressed still closer to me as we passed the little hollow in which the spring churned on, noiseless, and ceaseless, and untiring, and seemed to look up at us with a knowing eye as our lantern set the yellow gleams writhing and twisting in it.

We watched it for a time, it looked so like breaking into sound every next moment.

But no sound came, and we picked up our can and went on.
"I do wish I knew if it is to-day or to-morrow," said Carette.
"Without doubt it is to-day." "I don't believe it, Phil.

It's either to-morrow or the day after, or the day after that." "But that milk would never have kept sweet." "It would keep sweet a very long time here.

The air is so fresh and cool." "Well, even if it's to-morrow it's still to-day," I argued.
"I know.