“Yes. Let’s put the anchor down. Stand by the cable, will you? It’s all snarled up.” There was a splash which sounded momentously loud in the stillness and the cable ran out for some ten feet. “We must be pretty well in toward shore,” said Nelson.
“Now what?” asked Bob, working his way forward over the slippery deck. They looked from one to another. Finally——
“Stay here until the fog lifts and we can find Tommy, I guess,” said Nelson.
“Hang Tommy, anyhow,” said Bob disgustedly. “He’s always getting lost in the fog.”
“Yes, it’s the easiest thing he does,” agreed Dan. “He ought to write a book about it when he gets home. ‘Fogs I Have Met, by Thomas Courtenay Ferris.’”
“Supposing we shoot off that revolver of yours a few times?” Nelson suggested.
“All right,” said Bob. “I’ll get it.”
“It was a dandy joke of yours, Dan,” said Nelson. Dan shrugged his shoulders and wiped the drops from his face against his sleeve.
“How the dickens was I to know this fool fog was coming up?” he asked. “Here, let me shoot that, Bob.”
“You run away,” answered Bob, as he filled the chamber of his revolver.