, the
supply--even with the use of the auxiliary tanks--would not hold out
indefinitely. If the fog did not lift, or they did not land, sooner or
later they must face disaster. Worse still, they were--or believed they
were, navigating above the sea.

Had the _Golden Butterfly_ been fitted with pontoons like some of the Glen
Curtiss machines, this would not have been so alarming. But a descent into
the ocean would inevitably mean a speedy death by drowning.

Suddenly voices struck through the smother all about them. They seemed to
come from below.

"It's thick as pea soup, captain!"

"Aye, aye; I'll be glad when we're out of it I kin tell yer. This bay's a
bad place ter be in er fog."

"A ship," cried Jimsy. "Quick, Peggy," he almost yelled the next instant.
"Set your rising levers."

The girl swiftly manipulated the machinery that sent the _Golden
Butterfly_ on an upward course.

But it was only just in time that this maneuver was carried out. All of
them had a glimpse for an instant of the gilded ball on the main-mast
head of the vessel beneath them. For an instant Peggy's watchful eye had
been deflected from the height gauge, and she had allowed the _Golden
Butterfly_ to drop almost on the top of some coasting vessel's mast.

The danger over, they could not help laughing at the whimsical adventure.

"Just to think how utterly unconscious those fellows were of the fact that
three human beings were hovering right above them and listening to every
word of their conversation," chuckled Jimsy; "isn't it queer?"

A little while later a steamer's whistle boomed through the fog beneath
them, but as the altitude register showed five hundred feet, they did not
bother about it.

"At all events we know we're still above the water and not in danger of
colliding with any church steeples," said Jess, and she found consolation
in the thought.

"Have you any idea at all as to the direction of the light, Peggy?"
inquired Jimsy at length.

"I--I really don't know," confessed Peggy, with a gulp; "everything's
mixed up. It's so thick I can't tell anything and I'm deathly afraid of
running into the lighthouse by mistake."

"Then for goodness sake give it a wide berth," cried Jimsy; "if we keep on
cruising about for a while we'll be bound to land somewhere. Anyhow we've
got lots of gasoline, that's one comfort."

It was, indeed. In the steady hum of their powerful motor the young
aviators found consolation in that lonely