“What do you think of it, Cal?” he asked.
“Of what? If you refer to the moon, I am satisfied in my own mind—”
“Pshaw! You know what I mean. Do be serious for once and tell me what you think of the prospect?”
“Conscience bothering you again?”
“Yes. We must get away from here to-day if possible—and as soon as possible.”
“Can’t you give us time to have dinner and cook some extra food for consumption when we get hopelessly lost out there in the fog banks that are still rolling in from the sea?”
“Oh, of course we can’t leave here till the fog clears away. But do you think it ever will clear away?”
“It always has,” answered Cal, determined to laugh his brother out of his brooding if he could not reason him out of it. “In such experience as I have had with fogs I never yet encountered one that didn’t ultimately disappear, did you?”
“But what do you think of the prospect?” persisted Larry.