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.