e. You couldn't see it move, though; but as I watched blamed if it
don't creep up on an island, a mile or so out, and swallow it complete,
same as a picture fades off a movie screen when the lights go wrong.
Just like that. Then a few wisps of thin mist floats by, makin' things
a bit hazy ahead. Squirrel Island, off to the left, disappears like it
had gone to the bottom. The mainland shore grows vague and blurred,
and the first thing we know we ain't anywhere at all, the scenery's all
smudged out, and nothin' in sight but this pearl-gray mist. It ain't
very thick, you know, and only a little damp. Rummy article, this
State of Maine fog!

Young Hollister is standin' up now, tryin' to keep his bearin's and
doin' his best to look through the haze. He slows the engine down
until we're only just chuggin' along.

"Let's see," says he, "wasn't Squirrel off there a moment ago?"

"Why, no," says Vee. "I thought it was more to the left."

"By Jove!" says he. "And there are rocks somewhere around here too!"

Funny how quick you can get turned around that way. Inside of three
minutes I couldn't have told where we were at, any more'n if I'd been
blindfolded in a cellar. And I guess young Hollister got to that
condition soon after.

"We ought to be making the south end of Fisherman's soon," he observes.

But we didn't. He has me climb out on the bow to sing out if I see
anything. But, say, there was less to see than any spot I was ever in.
I watched and watched, and Payne kept on gettin' nervous. And still we
keeps chuggin' and chuggin', steerin' first one way and then the other.
It seemed hours we'd been gropin' around that way when----

"Rocks ahead!" I sings out as something dark looms up. Payne turns her
quick; but before she can swing clear bang goes the bow against
something solid and slides up with a gratin' sound. He tries backin'
off; but she don't budge.

"Hang it all!" says Payne, shuttin' off the engine. "I guess we're
stuck."

"Then why not have the picnic right here?" pipes up Mabel.

"Here!" snaps Payne. "But I don't know where we are."

"Oh, what's the difference?" says Mabel. "Besides, I'm hungry."

"I want to get out of this, though," says Payne. "I mean to keep going
until I know where I am."

"Oh, fudge!" says Mabel. "This is good enough. And if we stay here
and have a nice luncheon perhaps the fog will go away. What's the
sense in drifting around when you're hungry?"

That