THE FOG-STORM.
There were two or three more days of pleasant weather, with boating and fishing and target-shooting; and then a fog crept in, hiding the ocean from view, and even shutting down like a thick curtain between the tents.
"Thick enough to bite," Joe said.
Everything was wet, and Jonas was cross; so there was not much comfort, although most of the party were cheerful and good-natured.
The table was taken apart and set up in the large tent; but Jonas and his Friday had further to travel with the meals, and they grumbled accordingly.
"No knowin' how long this fog will hang around," growled Jonas, as he set the tin plates down with a clatter.
"I've known it to last a week," said Frank Furman.
"A week! what are you thinkin' of? It about always lasts a week! I've known it to last a month!"
"O Jonas!" chorused the boys, glad to see any signs of good-nature, "have you really?"
"Humph! I camped out with a party once, and we never saw the sun after we landed till the day we left, and that was three weeks; for they were hardy fellows, and they said they were bound to stay till that fog cleared out, if it took all the vacation."