Suddenly the Elizabeth shot ahead. Her other motor was working.
“Here we go!” cried Larry.
But it was too late. In another moment the fog was swirling around them, hiding the other boat completely from view. Thick and wet, the gray blanket settled down, making pursuit out of the question.
“Fate surely is against us,” thought Larry. “We’ll never catch them now.”
Mr. Potter gazed gloomily out into the mist which hung like drops of dew on the rigging, and on the faces of the men. It was an exceptionally heavy fog.
“I shall have to reduce to half speed, sir,” said Captain Reardon. “It would be too risky going fast in this mist.”
“I suppose so.”
“And I’ll have to use whistle and bell.”
“Yes. It’s the only way.”
“The only boat in sight when this fog shut down on us,” went on the commander, “was the one we were chasing, and she’ll keep ahead of us. But there’s no telling when a lake steamer might come along, and we don’t want to be run down.”