The next day, as if to make
up for it, the wind was very strong. Had John possessed a
particle of prudence he would have seen that it was no day to
venture out in a sailboat. But he was not in the habit of curbing
his impatience, and he determined that he would not wait till
another day. He declared that it was a mere "capful of wind," and
would be all the better for the purpose.
"It's a tip-top wind. Won't it make my boat scud," he said to
himself exultantly, as be took his place, and pushed off from
shore.
Henry Morton had been out on a walk, and from the summit of a
little hill near the river-bank espied John pushing off in his
boat.
"He'll be sure to capsize," thought the young man in alarm. "Even
if he is used to a sailboat he is very imprudent to put out in
such a wind; I will hurry down and save him if I can."
He hurried to the bank of the river, reaching it out of breath.
John was by this time some distance out. The wind had carried him
along finely, the boat scudding, as he expressed it.
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