"Where you been, Bob?"
It was Jack's voice in a loud whisper.
"Pat got hit with a dart!"
"He did?"
"But I think I got it out in time. I sucked out all the poison I could. Are you all right?"
"Sure, but—"
"Keep down low."
"I know, but—"
"Better not talk now. Against orders, you know."
As he spoke, he noticed, for the first time, that the wind was freshening and, at the same time, that the fog was beginning to thin out quite perceptibly as he could now see Jack's outline as he crouched close to the rail. Whether it would be in their favor for the fog to lift just at that time, or whether it would favor the enemy, he was not sure, but he could not help a feeling of relief, as it would, at least, put an end to the awful uncertainty. A glance to his right told him that Pat was not in his place, and he wondered what had become of him.