Wefers reached the dock, and stamped out to its extreme end, where was moored the livery scow he had commandeered for his journey across the lake from the village.
A light wind was blowing.

It had caught the scow's wide stern and had swung it out from the dock.

Wefers unhooked the chain and dropped it clankingly into the bottom.

Then, with ponderous uncertainty, he stepped from the dock's string-piece to the prow of his boat.
A whiff of breeze slapped the loosened scow, broadside on, and sent it drifting an inch or two away.

As a result, Homer Wefers' large shoe-sole was planted on the edge of the prow, instead of its center.
His sole was slippery from the dew of the lawn.