up out of the night behind them,
and held steady for an hour or more. Then it dropped and became aimless and
erratic, puffing gently first from one quarter and then another. French
Pete remained at the tiller, while occasionally Joe or 'Frisco Kid took
in or slacked off a sheet.

Joe sat and marveled that the Frenchman should know where he was going.
To Joe it seemed that they were lost in the impenetrable darkness which
shrouded them. A high fog had rolled in from the Pacific, and though they
were beneath, it came between them and the stars, depriving them of the
little light from that source.

But French Pete seemed to know instinctively the direction he should go,
and once, in reply to a query from Joe, bragged of his ability to go by
the "feel" of things.

"I feel ze tide, ze wind, ze speed," he explained. "Even do I feel ze land.
Dat I tell you for sure. How? I do not know. Only do I know dat I feel ze
land, just like my arm grow long, miles and miles long, and I put my hand
upon ze land and feel it, and know dat it is there."

Joe looked incredulously at 'Frisco Kid.

"That 's right," he affirmed. "After you 've been on the water a good
while you come to feel the land. And if your nose is any account, you
can usually smell it."

An hour or so later, Joe surmised from the Frenchman's actions that they
were approaching their destination. He seemed on the alert, and was
constantly peering into the darkness ahead as though he expected to see
something at any moment. Joe looked very hard, but saw only the darkness.

"Try ze stick, Kid," French Pete ordered. "I t'ink it is about ze time."

'Frisco Kid unlashed a long and slender pole from the top of the cabin,
and, standing on the narrow deck amidships, plunged one end of it into
the water and drove it straight down.

"About fifteen feet," he said.

"What ze bottom?"

"Mud," was the answer.

"Wait one while, den we try some more."

Five minutes afterward the pole was plunged overside again.

"Two fathoms," Joe answered--"shells."

French Pete rubbed his hands with satisfaction. "Vaire good, vaire well,"
he said. "I hit ze ground every time. You can't fool-a ze old man; I tell
you dat for sure."

'Frisco Kid continued operating the pole and announcing the results, to the
mystification of Joe, who could not comprehend their intimate knowledge of
the bottom of the bay.

"Ten feet--shells," 'Frisco Kid went on in a monotonous voice. "'Leven
feet--shel