The next moment it came to them plainly, the hoarse warning whistle of some great steamer. At first they could not locate the sound; but as they heard it again, and this time much nearer, they fixed it as coming from the direction in which they were heading, and knew that it proceeded from some transatlantic liner, bound eastward. Then they became filled with a fever of apprehension, of mingled hopes and fears. What if she should run them down? What if she should pick them up? What if she should pass without seeing or hearing them? These were the questions they asked each other over and over again during the few minutes that elapsed before the vast, formless object rushed by them still concealed by the fog, but so near that they could hear voices from her decks. They had not been seen, nor were their frantic shouts heeded, if they had been heard. In deep, dejected silence they sat motionless, listening to the sound of the whistle until it was lost in the distance. Then Wolfe said, “That’s the other side to it.” “Yes,” replied Breeze, “and it’s a pretty dark side to have to look at too. If the fog had only lifted, ever so little, even for one minute, we might be on board that steamer safe and comfortable now, on our way to--I don’t knew where and I shouldn’t have cared. At any rate, we wouldn’t be here, lost, starved, and drifting through a fog-bank.” The boy’s tone was very bitter, and it showed the heaviness of his heart. “Take a biscuit, old man,” said Wolfe, sympathetically, “it’ll cheer you up.” For a moment Breeze tried to look angry, at what he considered an ill-timed levity on the part of his companion; but the expression of the other’s face changed his mood, and he laughed in spite of his unhappiness. “That’s right!” exclaimed Wolfe. “Laughing’s a sight more becoming to you than crying, and whenever you ‘Point True’ to yourself, it’s plenty of the first and little of the last you’ll be indulging in.” “But it is hard to bear such a disappointment. Just think how near she came to us!”