Proceeding along the shore, picking his way carefully because of the mist, he had walked for about a quarter of a mile when he came suddenly upon a sampan, and halted, fearing that it might belong to the enemy. But as he stood there surrounded by the clinging fog, he heard Errington’s voice apparently only a few yards away. The explanation flashed upon him at once. They were on a small island, encompassed by a continuous screen of reeds. This was in a measure reassuring, for it diminished the risk of being discovered. He moved forward. Errington saw a figure looming through the mist, and instantly challenged. "It’s all right, Pidge. I’ve made a tour of the place; it’s an island. Any luck?" "Yes, I’ve found a cranky pair of bellows, very Chinese, in one of the huts. We can start our forge at once.... Hullo!" The exclamation was provoked by the sound of a shot in the distance. "What’s that mean, I wonder?" said Burroughs. "Don’t know. Shooting a duck for breakfast, perhaps. It’s pretty clear that the beggars haven’t given us up. When we start hammering they’ll hear us and are sure to find us out." "Better carry the stove into one of the huts and shut yourself up there. The sound will be deadened then. I wish now I’d brought my engineer; he’d have made a better job of it than you and Lo San; I can’t help, I’m sorry to say; my wretched arm is as stiff as a poker." "I’ve taken off the broken stay; half-an-hour’s work ought to finish the job as soon as we get the fire going. This mist is a godsend; they can’t see our smoke." "Well, you take the two boys to lend a hand in the hut, while I keep an eye on Chung Pi and listen for the enemy." The servants carried the stove and the broken stay into the largest of the huts. One of the others furnished plenty of wood for the fire, and in a few minutes they had a good blaze, and began the work of welding the stay. Burroughs was disconcerted to find that although the hut was shut up as closely as the ramshackle timbers allowed, the sound of hammering was distinctly audible outside. He sat on the sampan beside the dejected figure of Chung Pi, peering through the mist, and listening intently. By and by he fancied he heard voices from the direction of the channel, and a few minutes afterwards the muffled splash of paddles struck his ear. He waited until he was no longer in doubt that the sounds were approaching; then, taking Chung Pi by the sleeve, he hurried him up to the hut where the work was going on. "They’re coming this way, Pidge," he said. "Better knock off until we know what’s happening." "I’ll take Lo San down to the shore," said Errington. "Let us hope they’ll miss the place." At the shore Errington and the Chinaman stood listening in silence. The sound of paddles was now distinctly audible, growing louder every moment. Presently there were mingled with it the high-toned voices of Chinamen. "Can you hear what they say?" Errington whispered. Lo San bent forward.