The wind came in puffs, sometimes filling the little sail, and bending the boat to the water's edge, sometimes lulling altogether.
"It is a wretched affair," cried Fink, impatiently; "we are merely drifting now, and we shall capsize next." "If that's the case," said Anton, with feigned cheerfulness, "I propose that we turn back." "It doesn't matter," replied Fink, coolly; "one way or other, we'll get to land.

You can swim ?" "Like lead.

If we do capsize I shall sink at once, and you will have some trouble to get me up again." "If we find ourselves in the water, mind you do not catch hold of me, which would be the surest way of drowning both.

Wait quietly till I draw you out; and, by the way, you may as well be pulling off your coat and boots; one is more comfortable in the water _en neglige_." Anton did so at once.
"That's right," said Fink.

"To say the truth, this is wretched sport.