"It is not over half a mile further down the coast."
"And how far are we out?" was the police sergeant's question.
"Between five and six miles, as near as I can calculate."
"Will they be able to run in by dark?"
"I think so. You see, the wind is shifting, and it depends a good bit on how much it veers around," concluded the old sailor.
Slowly the sun sank in the west. It was growing cloudy and a mist was rising. The mist made Martin Harris shake his head; but, not wishing to alarm the others, he said nothing.
But soon Dick noticed the mist and so did the rest. "Gracious, supposing we get caught in a fog!" muttered Tom.
"I was just thinking of it," returned his elder brother. "There will be no fun in it—if we are out of sight of land."
A quarter of an hour went by, and still no land appeared. It was now so raw that the boys were glad enough to button their coats tightly about them. Then, of a sudden, the fog came rolling over them like a huge cloud, and they were unable to see a dozen yards in any direction.
"This is the worst yet!" groaned Sam.
"What's to do now?"
