CHAPTER XXVI.
“A PHANTOM OF LIGHT.”
For a long time Jack tried to keep Tom’s spirits up by joking and laughing. But jokes in a situation like the one that encompassed the two boys are but sorry things, and at length Jack gave over.
“Is there anything we can do?” asked Tom mournfully.
“We might cut holes in the fog and climb to the top,” laughed Jack, and then more seriously he continued: “I don’t know what there is to do, Tom, old boy, except to wait. ‘Wait till the clouds roll by, Nellie,’ you know.”
“That may not be for days.”
“Don’t let’s discuss that. Are you hungry?”
“Pretty well. But I think we had better go easy on what food we have; we may need it before long.”
“All right, we’ll put off the lunch part of it, then. But I must have some water; I’m awfully dry after that row.”
“So am I; but we must be careful of the water, too.”
The boys each took a sparing drink from the stone bottle, letting the water first moisten their mouths and then trickle down their parched throats. This done they looked about them once more. But if they had expected to discern a single ray of hope, they were disappointed. The fog was as dense as ever, denser, if anything. The outlook, to say the least of it, was not encouraging.