“Oh, just a little ways,” said Bob. “Maybe, though, it wasn’t open when he got there.” “More likely he’s gone and got lost in the fog,” said Nelson anxiously. “If he doesn’t show up pretty soon, let’s eat. I’m starving.” So, when ten minutes more had passed without Tom’s appearance, the three sat down to breakfast. By that time Dan was so hungry that he didn’t care whether there was any butter or not. They finished the meal and returned to the deck. “Maybe we’d better start the whistle,” suggested Dan. “If we call out it will do just as well,” said Bob. “Come on, all together!” “_O Tommy!_” they yelled. There was no answer. They tried again and still again. “Oh, let him alone,” said Dan disgustedly. “He’ll find his way back when he gets ready. I dare say he’s found a candy store.” “Well, we’ll leave some breakfast for him,” said Bob. “Come on down and let’s get the things washed up. I vote we have luncheon on shore.” The fog held steadily. Now and then voices reached them or the creaking of a boom as some small craft tried to work her way out of the harbor. But for the most part the silence was as thick as the fog which rolled in across the island. The awning was some protection, but it didn’t keep the cockpit dry by any manner of means, and so they got into their oilskins. When five bells had struck below Nelson got worried and tried the whistle. After the third or fourth blast a voice hailed them from off to starboard. “Hello, there! What’s the matter?” was the inquiry. “One of our fellows has gone ashore and hasn’t come back,” answered Nelson. “We thought maybe he had got lost in the fog. Where are you?” “On the steamboat wharf,” was the reply. “On the steamboat wharf!” muttered Nelson, looking perplexedly about him into the mist. “But the wharf ought to be in the opposite direction, Bob!” “Pshaw!” answered Bob. “The tide’s swung the boat around, that’s what’s happened.” “And Tommy’s gone off across the harbor!” chuckled Dan, “looking for butter!” “What’s over there, I wonder?” asked Nelson. “I don’t know,” Bob replied, “but it’s a good mile across in a straight line.” “And Tommy was never able to row straight in his life,” laughed Dan. “Oh, well, he’ll get onto himself after a while and come back.” “He’s been gone long enough already to have rowed over there and back two or three times,” said Bob uneasily. “Toot your old whistle some more, Nel.” And Nelson obeyed, blowing the whistle at intervals for the next hour and only ceasing when the air pressure gave out. And Tom refused to show up. At twelve they began to think of luncheon. “Wherever he is,” said Dan, “he’s safe enough. Trust Tommy to look after himself! I dare say he’s toasting himself in front of someone’s stove and eating caramels. So I say we go ashore and find some luncheon. Something tells me that it is approaching the hour.” “Don’t happen to know how we’re going to get ashore, do you?” asked Nelson. Dan’s face fell.