"It's no use, fellows, we can't go any further in this fog to-night," said Frank Merriwell on the fourth day after leaving Boston.

"We must go farther!" exclaimed Diamond. "There is no anchorage here."

"How do you know? We haven't tried for it."

"But we are not in a harbor."

"No. We are somewhere near the Whitehead Islands, near the mouth of Penobscot Bay."

"Well, let's keep on as long as there is a breath of wind. I don't fancy anchoring here. We might be run down in the night."

"And, if we keep on, the chances are two to one that we'll run onto a reef or pile up on an island. I had much rather take the chances of anchoring here and being run down. The wind is dying out, and this fog is shutting down thicker and thicker."

"Well," said Jack, in a dissatisfied way, "this is your boat and you are in command. You can do as you like."

"I'll do as the majority believes best."

"Then anchor," grunted Browning. "I don't fancy this prowling about in the fog."

Hodge was in favor of anchoring, and Hans agreed with them, so Jack was the only one who felt like going on. He gave up in disgust.

While they were talking the last faint breeze had fallen swiftly, and, by the time it was definitely decided, the White Wings lay becalmed, rolling helplessly on the swells that came in from the open sea.

"Shimminy Gristmas!" groaned Hans. "I don't like dot roll up und drop avay motions. Id makes me feel sick to your stomach."

"You will get enough of that as long as we remain anchored out here," said Diamond, unpleasantly.

Frank gave the orders, and down came the sails. A sounding showed they could anchor without trouble, and then the anchor was cast. The sails were not reefed, for it was not known when they might be required. Arrangements were made for raising them on short notice.

Night came down swiftly. Lights were set, but the boys felt that a light was poor protection for them in that darkness and fog.

"If we are in the course of the steamers we'll be run down," grumbled Jack.

"There'll have to be a regular watch to-night," declared Frank; "and the fog horn must be used."

Browning had managed to crawl on deck, and he looked disconsolate and disgusted.

"This is what they call a life on the ocean wave," he grunted. "Oh, it is more fun than a minstrel show!"

"We'll have to put up with some discomforts," said Merriwell.

"We made a mistake in coming further east than Portland," put in Jack. "That was a good place to stop."

"Wait till the sun comes out to-morrow and we run into Rockland Harbor," laughed the owner of the White Wings. "You will change your tune."

"Well, I hope so."

Hans was given the first watch, and he remained on deck while the others went below and had supper. At intervals he blew a blast on the horn, which sounded like some lost animal bellowing in the fog.

Frank laughed and joked, and he succeeded in putting the others in better spirits after a time. It was comfortable in the cabin, despite the fog outside.

Hodge made coffee, and the smell of it as it bubbled over the blaze of the oil stove gave all of them a ravenous feeling of hunger. The little folding table was let down and spread, and the sight of the food and smell of the coffee took their minds off the unpleasantness of their situation.

"It was a foolhardy thing running down here without somebody who knew the coast," said Jack.

"My dear fellow," smiled Frank, "we have our chart and compass, and I know a little something about navigation. Quit your worrying. I'll land you in Rockland to-morrow all right."

"You were going to land us there to-day."

"And so I would had the wind held right and this fog kept off."

"I believe there is a fog factory down this way somewhere," said Browning.

Hodge announced that supper was ready, and they gathered about the table. The White Wings was riding on a steady, regular swell, so they were not shaken up down there, and they found they could eat without discomfort. Browning was hungry as a bear, and he "pitched into the spread."

"Well, I don't know as this is too bad after all," he confessed, taking a third slice of tongue. "We've been in worse places."

"That's right," nodded Hodge. "Pass the sugar. I want a little of this coffee myself. I made it."

"The coffee is good," acknowledged Jack. "It warms a fellow up. A little grog wouldn't go bad in a case like this."

"There is no grog on this boat and will not be as long as I own her," declared Merriwell. "It's a foolish thing for a lot of fellows on a cruise like this to think that they must have grog."

"Oh, I didn't suppose you had any on board, Merriwell," said Diamond. "I know your temperance principles too well to look for anything like that."

By the time they finished eating all were in much better spirits. No one but Hans had been troubled with seasickness thus far on the cruise, and the Dutch boy had not been very sick.

Hans was called down to eat, and Bart took his place while he was below.

"Uf I can haf some of dot coffee id vill done you goot," said the Dutch lad. "I don'd pelief I vant to ead much. Mein stomach felt like id don'd been aple to held much uf a loadt. Yaw!"

So Hans drank some coffee and ate a little hard bread, after which he returned to his duties on deck, having donned a suit of oil clothes.

Frank got out his guitar and put it in tune.

"That's right, Merry," grunted Browning, rolling into his bunk. "Give us a song to cheer us up."

"What shall I sing?"

"Some of the old college songs."

"They'll make me homesick," said Diamond.

"It's a pleasant thing to feel homesick for Old Yale," murmured Frank. "Dear Old Yale!"

"Give us 'Stars of the Summer Night,'" urged Hodge.

So Frank sang the song that has sounded beneath the elms at Yale so many times. It was a beautiful song, and it awakened in the memories of the listening lads thoughts of the gay times at college, the moonlight nights, the roistering lads, the lighted windows of the Quad and the groups gathered at the Fence.

Jack brushed his eyes.

"Don't sing anything more like that," he urged. "Make it something lively—'Solomon Levi,' or any old thing."

So "Solomon Levi" followed, and they all joined in on the chorus. Other lively songs were sung, and, by the time Frank put aside the guitar all were in fairly good spirits.

Merriwell arranged the program of standing watch. Hans was relieved before they turned in.

All through the night they took turns at standing watch and blowing away at intervals on the fog horn. And the night passed quickly enough without event.

When morning came, however, the fog still hung on the surface of the water. They ate a light breakfast, and Frank fell to walking the deck impatiently.

"If there was a breeze, this fog would be liable to lift," he said. "It is disgusting."

After a little a light breeze rose, but it did not clear away the fog entirely. However, the coming of the sun had some effect on it, and it was not long before Merry decided to get up anchor and run up the sails.

The anchor was hoisted and the sails set. Frank took the wheel.

During the night the old swell had run out. Frank had studied his chart till he believed he knew about where they lay, and he set his course by the compass.

Not ten minutes after getting under way they found they were headed straight for an island. In their vicinity the fog was not heavy, but out beyond the island lay a bank of it.

Immediately on sighting the island, Frank changed the course of the yacht, bringing her almost about. Then he ran out past the island, headed for the fog bank.

All at once there was a strange sound, a roaring swish of water. Not one of them was certain which direction the sound came from.

"Vot dot vos?" exclaimed Hans, in alarm.

"Keep still!" ordered Frank.

The sounds grew louder.

Then, all at once, Hans flung up his hands and shouted:

"Reef your rudder, Vrankie! You vos running a sdeampoat ofer us!"

Out of the fog bank, just ahead, came a large side-wheel steamer, headed straight toward them!

Frank sighted the steamer at the same moment Hans saw it, and he realized their peril. It was the Boston boat, City of Bangor, on its course up the bay.

In the twinkling of an eye, Merriwell threw the wheel over and over, the White Wings swung to port, but headed straight across the course of the great steamer.

Hoo-oo-oot! hoo-oo-oot! hoo-oo-oot! sounded the hoarse warning whistle from the steamer.

"If you had been whistling through that fog bank all would have been right," muttered Merriwell, through his set teeth. "Now, if you run me down, you'll pay for this yacht!"

There was a jangling sound of a bell on board the steamer, and the pilot in the pilot house was seen to send his wheel spinning over with frantic haste at the same moment that the headway of the steamer grew less.

"Will she clear us?" cried Hodge.

"She is bound to cut us in two!" shouted Diamond. "There isn't breeze enough for us to get out of her way!"

"Vere vos der life breserfers?" squawked Hans. "I vant to got me onto a life-breserfer a hurry in!"

The Dutch lad made a headlong leap for the companion way. At the head of the steps he stubbed his toe and down he went head first.

It happened that Bruce Browning had heard the commotion on deck, and, strange to relate, it had aroused him so that he was coming up.

Bruce had just started to go above when Hans came flying through the air like a huge toad, struck him full and fair, and both went down in a heap on the cabin floor.

"Dot seddles id!" yelled the frightened Dutch lad. "Der yocht vos sunkin' und I vos a goner!"

"You blundering Dutch chump!" gasped Bruce, when he could catch his breath. "What is the matter?"

"Didn't you toldt me der yocht vos sunkin'?" shrieked Hans. "Id haf run ofer a pig sdeampoat! Uf you kept myseluf drownting from I vill haf to got oudt und valk ashore!"

Browning managed to get himself together and rise to his feet. Then he hurried up the companion way and reached the deck just in time to see the huge white hull of a steamboat looming above the yacht.

But Merriwell's prompt action and steady nerve had saved the White Wings, for the steamer, with motionless paddlewheels, was slipping past, the yacht having cut square across her course.

It was a close shave, and a few white faces looked over the forward starboard rail of the huge steamer.

"If you chaps knew your business you would be at anchor instead of cruising round in this fog," called a hoarse voice from the steamer.

"If you knew your business you would blow your fog whistle while running through a fog bank," returned Frank Merriwell, promptly.

"That's the stuff, Merry!" grated Hodge, whose face was still pale. "How do you suppose they happened to do such a thing?"

"Probably that bank of fog is narrow, and they only ran into it a few minutes ago. Perhaps they did not strike heavy fog till just before they broke through and came into view."

"Well, it was a piece of reprehensible carelessness, and it's lucky the White Wings was not cut in two."

As the huge steamer slipped past, the boys saw not many persons were astir on her. She had made an all-night run from Boston, and the passengers were still sleeping in their staterooms, with a few exceptions.

Near the stern of the steamer were two persons in mackintoshes. They seemed to regard the yacht with interest, not to say excitement, and their movements attracted the attention of the boys.

One of the passengers clutched the other by the arm and pointed out the White Wings, then both leaned over the rail.

Jack Diamond leaped to Merriwell's side, grasped Merry by the shoulder, and cried in his ear:

"Look, Merriwell—look!"

"Where?"

"On the steamer there! The two fellows astern!"

"I see them."

"Know them?"

"By Jove! I believe I do!"

"One of them is——"

"Wat Snell!"

"Sure! And the other is——"

"The chap who claimed this yacht—Parker Flynn!"

"Exactly."

"Great Scott! What are they doing on that boat?"

"Following us!"

"Perhaps they are."

"Perhaps! There is no perhaps about it! Of course they are!"

"But Snell and Flynn together—how does that happen?"

"I can't tell that, but they are together, and they are following us—that's sure. You are not done with Flynn, it seems."

"He will get into trouble if he bothers me any more. I shall not stand any nonsense from him. As for Wat Snell, all I want is a good chance to square up with him. I will make him sorry he ever heard of me!"

"That's the talk, Frank!" exclaimed Diamond, approvingly. "Snell will be easier to dispose of than the other chap, for it is probable that Flynn believes he can take this boat away from you because he has a right to it, or he would not be following us."

"He has no right to it, and he will not be able to take it."

"See, Frank! What is the fellow going to—— Look out!"

On the steamer Flynn had been seen to hastily unbutton his mackintosh, jerk something bright out of his hip pocket and point it toward the yacht.

It was a revolver.

Jack Diamond realized the desperate fellow's purpose, and he caught hold of Frank Merriwell and gave him a push that threw him to the deck beside the wheel.

There was a flash of fire from the revolver, a puff of smoke, and then a bullet whistled over the yacht, striking the water beyond.

"Well, of all the foolhardy, cowardly tricks, I believe that takes the premium!" said Frank, as he arose and grasped the wheel again. "That man is drunk or crazy!"

The moment Flynn fired, Snell took to his heels and scudded out of sight, disappearing on the other side of the steamer. Flynn hastily put up his revolver, shook his fist toward the yacht, and then followed Snell, both of them getting out of the way before anyone, attracted by the sound of the shot, came aft to investigate.

The big paddlewheels of the steamer were in motion again, and she was forging on her course, as if nothing had happened.

Frank brought the White Wings round and set his course to follow as closely as the wind would allow. In a short time the steamer was almost out of sight in the thin mist that hung over the water where there was no fog.

Then, at last, Hans Dunnerwust came puffing and stumbling on deck, fairly loaded down with life-preservers. He fell at the head of the companion way, and the life-preservers flew all over the deck.

"Put me onto them kvick!" he squealed. "Uf I don'd haf a life breserfer on ven der yocht sinks you vos a goner!"

The boys laughed at his ludicrous appearance, and he sat up on the deck, staring around blankly.

"Vere dot sdeampoat vos?" he asked, in astonishment.

"Why, the steamer is a mile away by this time," said Hodge.

"If she had run into us, we'd been at the bottom long before this," laughed Frank. "You are too slow, Hans."

"Vale, I done your duty, anyhow," sturdily declared the Dutch boy. "You don'd got me to makin' no mistake in dot."

Then he was set to gathering up the life preservers and carrying them below again.

The encounter with the steamer and the desperate action of Parker Flynn furnished food for conversation on board the yacht. The boys talked it over and over, and it was the general opinion that the presence of Flynn and Snell in company on the steamer was not an accident.

"We'll see more of those fellows before long," prophesied Diamond. "And it strikes me that Flynn is more dangerous than Snell, for he is a desperate fellow. If he had shot anybody on this boat there was no way of making it seem an accident. When Snell pushed you in front of the car he could have sworn it was an accident if the car had killed you. Look out for Parker Flynn."

"I will," said Merriwell.

It was nearly nine o'clock before they rounded Owl's Head and pointed into Rockland harbor. The mist still hung on the water, and the outlines of the city were hidden. Frank, however, felt confident that he was all right.

"We'll take dinner ashore if you say so, fellows," he said.

"Oh, I don't know," said Jack. "I don't believe these natives down in this country know how to cook anything fit to eat."

Frank smiled.

"I fancy you have a few notions that will be knocked out of your head after you have been down this way a short time. You still seem to fancy you are going into a howling wilderness where there are only savages and half-civilized white people."

"Perhaps we are," said Jack, by way of being odd. "You don't know yourself, for this is your first visit down here."

Out through the mist came a tiny steam launch. All at once it was headed straight toward the White Wings.

"She acts as if she is coming for us," said Hodge, scowling.

As the launch came nearer five persons were seen in her. The interest of the boys increased rapidly, for everything seemed to indicate that she was making straight for the yacht.

All at once Diamond uttered a cry, turned to Frank and said:

"I knew it! I told you we'd see more of him! See the fellow in the bow of that launch? It's Parker Flynn!"