“That’s the voice of Professor Snodgrass,” declared Ned. “I’d know it among a hundred, even if he didn’t use his characteristic talk about some new kind of bug.”
“Mist-flies!” exclaimed Bob. “What are they?”
“Oh, some kind of insect that flies only in a fog—or at least that’s what the professor thinks they are,” commented Jerry.
“Well, now that we’re sure—or almost positively so—that Professor Snodgrass is on board,” suggested Ned, “why not see him? Let’s call out and let him know we’re here—within a hundred feet of him, I should say, though this fog is so thick that he may be several hundred feet off. Voices carry very plainly over water and through heavy mist. I’m going to——”
“You’re going to keep still—at least for a while!” interrupted Jerry, putting his hand over Ned’s mouth in time to prevent that energetic lad from sending out a call to the unseen owner of the voice which sounded so like that of Professor Snodgrass.
“Just wait a bit,” Jerry went on, when Ned had recovered his composure caused by the sudden stoppage of his vocal powers. “I admit that the voice was that of our professor, but maybe it would spoil his plans to be recognized just now or to meet with us.”
“How could it?” asked Bob.
“That’s what I don’t know,” Jerry was frank enough to admit. “But for some reason the professor prefers to remain somewhat concealed. He must have his own reason for that. Very good—it’s his privilege. Now let’s wait until this thing clears up.”
“Do you mean the fog?” asked Ned.
“Partly that, yes. Great guns! isn’t it thick, though? You could almost slice it like cheese.”