“I’m going to get back to land as soon as I can,” Paul answered her. “Before this fog closes down on us.”
“What would happen, Paul?” asked Billie softly. “I mean if it should close down on us.”
“We’d be lost,” said Paul shortly, for by this time he was more than anxious. He was worried.
“Lost!” they repeated, and looked at each other wide-eyed.
“Well, you needn’t look as if that was the end of the world,” said Teddy, trying to speak lightly. “All we would have to do would be to keep on drifting around till the fog lifted. It’s simple.”
“Yes, it’s simple all right,” said Chet gloomily. “If we don’t run into anything.”
“Run into anything!” gasped Connie, while the other girls just stared. “Oh, Paul, is there really any danger of that?”
“Of course,” said Paul impatiently, noticing that the fog was growing thicker and blacker every moment. “There’s always danger of running into something when you get yourself lost in a fog. And it’s the little boat that gets the worst of it,” he added gloomily.
“Say, can’t you try being cheerful for a change?” cried Teddy indignantly, for he had noticed how white Billie was getting and was trying his best to think of something to say that would make her laugh. “There’s no use of singing a funeral song yet, you know.”
“No, and there’s no use in starting a dance, either,” retorted Paul, wondering how much longer he would be able to keep his course. “We’re in a mighty bad fix, and no harm can be done by everybody knowing it. I can’t possibly get back to the island—or the mainland either—before this fog settles down upon us.”