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