"Why didn't you blow the horn when we ran through the first fog?" asked Fred, voicing a question he had been turning over in his mind for some time.
"Figured out we didn't need it," Larry replied. "Now we've blown so far over we must be near the track of the steamers. Don't aim to have a big brother come out of the clouds and walk through us."
The boys, by a desperate effort, managed to keep awake till three o'clock. Then, just as Artie was sure his eyes would not open again, they heard Polly stir uneasily.
"Fred?" she whispered. "Artie?"
"Right here," Fred said reassuringly. "What's the matter?"
"I can't get up," said Polly desperately. "I can't move. I feel as though I had turned to stone."
Fred tore off the blanket. Jess was asleep, her whole weight thrown against Polly, her head on her shoulder. Against the other arm slumbered Margy, resting heavily.
"Wake 'em up," said Fred. "You must be numb. What did you let them do that for?"
"Oh, I was asleep, too," Polly protested. "I wasn't one bit uncomfortable until I woke up and tried to move my foot. It feels like lead. There isn't one bit of feeling in my arms, either."