vessel till they were rid of their doubt.

The steamer was French, and her captain a French naval officer; and it
is possible he and the pilot did not understand each other any too well.

It was a matter of course that the speed of the ship should be somewhat
lessened, under such circumstances; but it would have been a good deal
wiser not to have gone on at all. Not to speak of the shore they were
nearing, they might be sure they were not the only craft steaming or
sailing over those busy waters; and vessels have sometimes been known to
run against one another in a fog as thick as that. Something could be
done by way of precaution in that direction, and lanterns with bright
colors were freely swung out; but the fog was likely to diminish their
usefulness somewhat. They took away a little of the gloom; but none of
the passengers were in a mood to go to bed, with the end of their voyage
so near, and they all seemed disposed to discuss the fog, if not the
general question of mists and their discomforts. All of them but one,
and he a boy.

A boy of about Dab Kinzer's age, slender and delicate-looking, with
curly light-brown hair, blue eyes, and a complexion which would have
been fair, but for the traces it bore of a hotter climate than that of
either France or America. He seemed to be all alone, and to be feeling
very lonely that night; and he was leaning over the rail, peering out
into the mist, humming to himself a sweet, wild air in a strange but
exceedingly musical tongue.

Very strange. Very musical.

Perhaps no such words had ever before gone out over that part of the
Atlantic; for Frank Harley was a missionary's son, "going home to be
educated;" and the sweet, low-voiced song was a Hindustanee hymn which
his mother had taught him in far-away India.

Suddenly the hymn was cut short by the hoarse voice of the "lookout," as
it announced,--

"A white light, close aboard, on the windward bow."

That was rapidly followed by even hoarser hails, replied to by a voice
which was clear and strong enough, but not hoarse at all. The next
moment something, which was either a white sail or a ghost, came
slipping along through the fog, and then the conversation did not
require to be shouted any longer. Frank could even hear one person say
to another out there in the mist, "Ain't it a big thing, Ford, that you
know French? I mean to study it when we get home."

"It's as easy as eating. Dab, shall I tell 'em we've got some f