There were two or three more days of pleasant weather, with boating and fishing and target-shooting; and then a fog crept in, hiding the ocean from view, and even shutting down like a thick curtain between the tents.

"Thick enough to bite," Joe said.

Everything was wet, and Jonas was cross; so there was not much comfort, although most of the party were cheerful and good-natured.

The table was taken apart and set up in the large tent; but Jonas and his Friday had further to travel with the meals, and they grumbled accordingly.

"No knowin' how long this fog will hang around," growled Jonas, as he set the tin plates down with a clatter.

"I've known it to last a week," said Frank Furman.

"A week! what are you thinkin' of? It about always lasts a week! I've known it to last a month!"

"O Jonas!" chorused the boys, glad to see any signs of good-nature, "have you really?"

"Humph! I camped out with a party once, and we never saw the sun after we landed till the day we left, and that was three weeks; for they were hardy fellows, and they said they were bound to stay till that fog cleared out, if it took all the vacation."

"Did they?" asked Joe, as Jonas paused in his story to count plates.

"No, they didn't. They got enough of it; and when the third week was ended, and the fog was packed down tighter than ever, one of 'em said, 'Come, boys, I'll give it up. I am completely mildewed now, inside and out. We have eaten and drunk and breathed fog for twenty-one days, and for once I've had enough of one thing.'"

"Well, Jonas, go on; what did the rest do?" asked David.

"Why, they all said 'Amen,' and packed up as quick as they could, and got into the yacht, and started for the nearest shore. We had to go by the compass, because we'd no idea where the sun was. Part of the way we rowed, and part of the way we drifted, and by-and-by we got ashore. Once in a while I see one of them fellows, and they laugh about it now, and call it a good joke; but they didn't laugh much then."

"You didn't neither, I'm sure," said Freitag, shrugging his shoulders.

"You are right there. I felt like I could bite a board-nail, for I had to work around, good weather or bad. No, there was only one fellow that called it funny, after the first two or three days; and that man nearly killed himself laughing about it! That fellow would have found a queer side to his own tombstone. He laughed about the fog, and he laughed at the way the other fellows took it; and he laughed so when he left the island, that the others threatened to throw him overboard. I've never seen him but once since, and he began again as soon as he spied me; and he dragged me into a shop and bought me a nice pipe, laughing all the time the shopman was doing it up. 'That was a jolly trip, Jonas!' says he; and I heard him chuckling after I left him.--But goodness, Freitag, ring that bell! the breakfast will be stone-cold."

"You don't suppose this will last," said Max Bernard disconsolately. "Our tent is dripping now. We'll all be sick!"

"Sick! nonsense! You won't get cold in a salt fog," cried Walter Martin.

"It will most likely end in a big storm," exclaimed Jonas croakingly, feeling quite safe in making such a prophecy.

The boys groaned at the suggestion, and one of them remarked that "there was nothing so consoling in dull weather as making toffy."

Joe, remembering that Jonas had lost his jackknife, slipped his own into his hand as a bribe, and got his unwilling consent to give them butter and sugar and a chance to boil it.

Joe Chester and David Winter were chief cooks on the occasion, with a large crowd of advisers and tasters; and when the toffy was boiled they poured it into a baking-pan to cool, and took it to the large tent.

Although Jonas had given them a generous supply of sugar and butter, there were so many boys the toffy was eaten before it was thoroughly cool.

They had a great deal of fun over it, and the pleasure helped to while away the dull day.

They could not have toffy-making every day, and the fog still remained. Some days the fog did not lift at all, and at other times it would disappear for an hour or two, giving them a glimpse of bright sunshine, then it would return to wrap them in as closely as ever.

One day they had the good fortune to see a fog-bow, which is like a rainbow in very subdued colours--"a Quaker rainbow," Joe called it.

After a week had passed, and the boys had exhausted their resources for indoor amusement, the storm predicted by Jonas commenced in the night.

Joe waked his friend Dave by pulling his hair, words having failed to arouse him.

"Let go there!" growled Dave.

"Wake up, boy! wake up! There's an awful storm!"

"What d'you say?" asked Dave sleepily.

"There's an awful storm, I tell you! Don't you hear the rain pelting on the tent? The wind blows like fury. I expect our tent will be down in a minute. The water is all running in under the canvas."

"Dripping through it, too," cried David, thoroughly awakened by the great drops that fell fast upon his upturned face, to avoid which he sprang from bed only to alight in a pool of water deep enough to splash under his feet.

Both boys laughed in spite of their discomfort, and just then Mr. Bernard came to the tent and rapped on the canvas.

"Boys, how are you getting on?"

"Oh, swimmingly."

"Yes, I presume so. It is a fearful storm! You are fortunate to have your tent standing. Several have blown down. You had better come over to the large tent. We have been strengthening the stakes around that. Wrap yourselves in your blankets and run."

The boys got on their rubber boots, and covering themselves with their red blankets, they opened the tent, stood a moment to watch the sheet of rain as it descended, and then ran across to Mr. Bernard's tent, which was about two rods away.

"Let us in!" cried Joe, bumping his blanketed head against the canvas curtain. Some one opened the tent, and the two boys stumbled in.

"Joe and Dave!"

"Oh, got drowned out, too!"

"Did your tent go down?"

"For once Joe Chester's got water enough!"

And the boys inside made room on the table where most of them were perched.

The teachers, with Jonas and Freitag, were driving stakes inside and fastening the tent to them to help to anchor it; and it seemed to need it, for sometimes the wind would sweep in beneath the canvas and swell it like a big balloon, as if it must either burst or go up in spite of ropes and stakes.

"God help the sailors!" exclaimed Mr. Bernard solemnly, as one of the sudden gusts died away.

"Oh, Ralph and Ben!" cried Joe. "Where are they? Do you suppose they are out in that little vessel, Mr. Bernard?"

"God forbid! I trust they are in some safe harbour. Fishermen are wise in such matters."

"But if they are out!" continued Joe anxiously. "Ralph will be frightened! You know he is a coward, and afraid of the water, anyway."

"I don't see how they happened to go in a vessel," said Frank Furman.

"They went to get away from us all, poor fellows; they didn't know what else to do," said Joe pityingly. "Besides, the weather was pleasant then, and the water didn't look as if it ever could be rough; don't you remember?"

"I think they have been sick enough of it before this," suggested another.

"Oh, very likely they are safe in their own homes, and pitying us poor wretches. They would be likely to get that fisherman to put them ashore at the first port they made," added Ned Gould.

Still Joe worried about them, and Mr. Bernard was very solemn; he had been anxious about the two absent lads ever since the storm commenced.

The wind continued till morning, but the rain ceased soon after midnight, and the boys, wrapped in their damp blankets, lay across the long table with legs dangling down the side, packed very closely together, and trying to sleep; but the roaring of the sea, and the rattle of the stones tossed by the waves, the creaking of the tent as it swayed to and fro as far as the ropes would allow, all combined to keep them awake.

Some gave up the effort to go to sleep, and tried to while away the time by telling doleful stories of shipwrecks and other disasters; and then, growing sleepy at daylight when the others went out to see the havoc of the storm, they were sound asleep when Mr. Bernard's bell summoned the boys for prayers, and they had no time for a morning toilet.

The thanksgiving for shelter and safety in the fearful storm found an echo in every heart; and when he prayed for their two companions that they might be returned to their friends in safety and with the determination to be true and noble boys hereafter, Chester felt like uttering a loud amen.

The sun was shining brightly again, and every trace of fog was gone, but the wind was still blowing, and the sea a perfect witch's caldron.

After breakfast the bedding was taken out to dry, and anchored with large stones to the ledge to keep it from flying away.

The tents were once more pitched, and they all felt that with the return of the sun there was also a return of pleasure in camp-life.

Even Jonas seemed in a fair way towards good-nature again, and that made them all more cheerful.

During the fog-storm he had been crabbed enough; and Joe said if he saw a boy come within five yards of the cook-tent he would growl like a bear.

He was improving now, and when one of the boys suggested doughnuts for a variety, Jonas announced that the next job he "tackled" should be to fry doughnuts.[#]

[#] Small, roundish cakes.

"Twisted fellows, Jonas," suggested Joe.

"Yes, twisted."

"And will you give us one while they are hot?"

"Ye-es; go 'long with you, every one of ye."