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A gust of wind, rougher than the others, swirled the fog about

him in great ghostly sheets, turning and twisting it like the

clouds of greasy smoke from a fire of wet leaves. The dory rolled

heavily, and Code, losing his balance, sprawled forward on the

fish, the horn flying from his hand overboard as he tried to save

himself.

For a moment only it floated; and then, as he was frantically

swinging the dory to draw alongside, it disappeared beneath the

water with a low gurgle.

The situation was serious. He was unable to attract attention,

and must depend for his salvation upon hearing the horns of the

other dories as they approached the schooner. Rowing hard all the

time, with frequent short pauses, he strained his ears for the

welcome sound.

Sometimes he thought he caught a faint, mellow call; but he soon

recognized that these were deceptions, produced in his ears by

the memory of what he had heard before. Impatiently he rowed on.