oing to rain any until the wind comes
up and drives this mist away," Jack informed them, and as he claimed to
be something of a weather prophet they believed him.

"I'm wet, as it is, from the fog," said Frank.

"Listen!" exclaimed Jack, just then.

Jimmy started to turn his head around so fast that it seemed in danger
of coming loose.

"Where, what, why, how?" he spluttered, as he half-raised his rifle, as
though taking the alarm.

"Oh! I only meant that I could get the lazy wash of the water rolling up
on the sandy beach," replied Jack, grinning to see how his innocent
exclamation had excited Jimmy.

"Next time," mumbled the other, "I'd thank you to tell what you mean
right away. It would save a poor feller from havin' palpitation of the
heart, which they tell me is bad for the appetite."

"Then let's all get it, Jimmy," chuckled Frank, "because no appetite
means that we wouldn't have to bother looking up new supplies of grub.
But that is the sea you hear running up on the shore, Jack, which shows
how close we are to the bay."

A minute later and they could see signs of the salt water, though the
fog was so dense that it was impossible to look out further than a dozen
or two yards.

"I suppose that happens quite a lot of times up here?" remarked Jack, as
they stood on the bank and stared out into that sea of mist, which hid
everything as with a blanket.

"They have fogs along off the coast of New Foundland, where the cod
banks lie," Ned observed, "which comes from the fact that the cold
currents of air from the Arctic meet with the warm Gulf Stream there, as
it turns and heads toward Europe. That makes the fog, you know; but I
never ran across a thicker one than this."

"Huh! looks like pea soup to me," suggested Teddy.

"Well, pea soup is a mighty fine dish, don't you forget it," retorted
Jimmy, "and if I could get a bucket of the same as easy as I can this
old fog, I wouldn't be doin' any kicking, believe me, boys."

"You said we must turn to the left, didn't you, Ned?" inquired Frank,
who did not see the sense of wasting any time in standing there and
staring into that impenetrable sea of gray fog.

"That would seem to be our best and only course," was the reply. "In the
first place, it will save our crossing the mouth of the Harricanaw,
and, as we have no boat, that counts for something. Then, from what I
can see on my chart, by crossing one small river, called the Masakany,
we ought to reach a p