"Red light dead ahead," called Rush.
"What do you make of her?"
"Nothing more, sir."
"That's one of the Wyckoff coal fleet," announced the captain, leaning from the pilot-house window. "She's headed for Shoal Island."
"How in the name of all that's good does he know all that?" muttered the boy on the bridge. "I can't see a thing but the red light, and that means that her port beam is almost across our bow. I don't see anything else."
"I suppose you are wondering how I know that, eh?" chuckled the captain, nodding to the lad pacing the bridge just below him.
"Well, yes, sir; I was wondering," admitted Rush.
"Do you make out her white lights!"
"No, sir."
"That's where I have you. There is a bank of fog or mist settling over the lake. If you will raise your eyes a little to the right of the red light you will make out two faint blurs——"