"No."

"You'll know by-and-by."

The skipper again turned his attention to the horizon.

Continuing to observe the cloud, he muttered between his teeth,--

"One month of squalls, another of wet; January with its gales, February
with its rains--that's all the winter we Asturians get. Our rain even is
warm. We've no snow but on the mountains. Ay, ay; look out for the
avalanche. The avalanche is no respecter of persons. The avalanche is a
brute."

"And the waterspout is a monster," said the doctor, adding, after a
pause, "Here it comes." He continued, "Several winds are getting up
together--a strong wind from the west, and a gentle wind from the east."

"That last is a deceitful one," said the skipper.

* * * * *

The blue cloud was growing larger.

"If the snow," said the doctor, "is appalling when it slips down the
mountain, think what it is when it falls from the Pole!"

His eye was glassy. The cloud seemed to spread over his face and
simultaneously over the horizon. He continued, in musing tones,--