The Sureness of MacKenzie By Frederick R. Bechdolt Author of "The Fight of the Lone Pass," "Under Sealed Orders," etc. An epic of the hill wind and fog. A story of thrills; and, when you think it's over, and read this story, you'll agree with Bechdolt that there are few jobs more crowded with thrills than that of the pilot who essays to bring a big liner into port in a fog so thick that it obscures the decks. The hill wind and the fog raced down from Tamalpais’ crest to the inner portal of the Golden Gate. While the great sirens shook the living rock on either side with their hoarse warnings, these two lingered briefly in the steep-walled place. It was like the last conference of stealthy thugs at the scene of their projected crime. For to-morrow they were to bring the thing to pass. Even now the _Empress_ was facing straight toward the spot. Far out of sea she came, unswerving as though, disdainful of the plotting elements and imbued with absolute, abiding faith in man, she knew that her pilot was at this moment being summoned forth to the place where he would meet her. The ringing of the telephone bell in the hallway was the first indication MacKenzie got of the impending task. He rose deliberately from his morris chair and strode out to answer. He was a wide-shouldered man whose weather-stained face was out of harmony with his well-tailored business suit. There was assertion in the very manner of his setting down his feet; his bushy, gray brows seemed to grow heavier as he neared the instrument. When he had taken down the receiver, he roared the salutation in his quarter-deck voice, and his “Hello!” made the windows rattle in the sitting room, where his wife was leaning forward, hearkening. “All right.... Four o’clock.... Good-by.” He shouted each answer like an order. His wife dropped the two dolls over which she had been smiling before the interruption, and a shadow came into her eyes. “You’re going to be away over the twins’ birthday.” Her voice made it like an accusation. “I’ve got to go out inside of an hour.” He turned his back on those dolls which he had been fondly fingering five minutes ago, and he took down from its hook behind the door a file of the _Guide_. He scanned the first column’s closely printed list of homing vessels. “Two men out there ahead of me,” he said thoughtfully. “Let’s see.”