“Either we are somewhere around the mouth of the river or else we’re in a steamboat’s wake; and we haven’t heard any pass. Wait a bit.” He went down and stopped the engine. “Now,” he said as he came back, “let’s have that boat hook a minute.”
Dan passed it to him and he dropped it into the water, keeping hold of the end. The submerged portion floated back against the hull. Nelson pulled it up and tried again over the stern.
“We’re just about broadside to the current,” he announced. “And I’m blest if I know where we are. Best thing we can do is to drop anchor, I guess.”
“Not if we’re in the middle of the river,” said Bob. “Let’s keep on a bit farther. Dan saw land a moment ago over there. Suppose I head that way and we creep over until we find it again. Then we won’t be in danger of being run down by somebody.”
“That’s so,” answered Nelson. “Keep your eyes open, Dan.”
So the Vagabond took up her travels again, groping her way through the gray mist, with Dan peering anxiously from the bow. It was rather exciting while it lasted and the monotonous screech of the whistle breaking the silence lent an uncanny touch to the adventure. Then——
“Stop her!” called Dan, and Bob repeated the injunction to Nelson at the engine. The propeller stopped and the launch floated softly through the mist. “Star-board a little,” said Dan. Bob turned the wheel. “All right,” said Dan. “How’s this, Nel?”
Nelson had joined him and was peering perplexedly through the fog.
“I don’t see any land,” he said finally.
“Over there. I can’t see it myself now, though. Wait a bit and the fog will thin. There it is,” said Dan. “See that dark line?”