.

Dropping the buoy he had just gaffed, Percy took the oars and began
rowing hard toward the sound, which gradually grew louder. The fog came
on with a rush, sliding over them like an avalanche. It was hardly
possible to see beyond the tips of the oar-blades.

"Lucky we can hear that surf!" said Percy, comfortably. "But strange it
sounds so loud and so near."

Now it was close ahead. He stopped rowing, puzzled. A blast of cold air
smote them. Suddenly there was a rushing all around. It was not the surf
at all, but waves, breaking before the coming wind. They were lost in
the fog!

Percy faced Filippo blankly. For a moment his head went round. With
bitter regret he now realized that in dropping the buoy he had given up
a certainty for an uncertainty that might cost them dearly. But nothing
was to be gained by yielding to discouragement. He reviewed his scanty
stock of sea lore.

"That wind is probably blowing from some point between northeast and
southeast. If we turn around, and run straight before it, we'll be
likely to hit the island."

He swung the pea-pod stern to the breeze.

"Here goes! Watch out sharp for lobster-buoys, Filippo!"

But no buoys appeared. They might pass within ten feet of one and never
see it. Five, ten, twenty, thirty minutes passed; and still no sign of
Tarpaulin. The wind was becoming stronger, the waves higher; their
rushing was now loud enough to drown the sound of any surf that might be
breaking on the ledges of the island. Percy rowed for a quarter-hour
longer, dread plucking at his heart-strings. At last he rested on his
oars.

"We've missed it," he acknowledged, despondently.

They were lost now in good earnest. It was one o'clock. The fog hung
over them like a heavy gray pall, so damp and thick that it was almost
stifling. Percy turned the pea-pod bow to the wind and began rowing
again.

"We must try to hold our own till it clears up," he observed, with
attempted cheerfulness.

But his tones lacked conviction. It might not clear for two or three
days. By degrees his strokes lost their force, until the oars were
barely dipping. The boat was going astern fast.

Two o'clock. Long ere this Jim and Budge must have returned from
trawling and realized that the pea-pod and its occupants were lost. They
were probably searching for them now, perhaps miles away on the other
side of the island, wherever it might be.

A gruff bark startled them. A round, black, whiskered head sudd