“Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay
  That was built in such a logical way
  It ran a hundred years to a day?”

quoted Han.  “Wouldn’t that look funny alongside a Rolls-Royce, Perry?”

“It would look funny alongside a flivver,” answered the other.  “Say, how far do we have to walk?  Seems to me we’ve done about five miles already.”

“Rot!  We haven’t walked more than a mile.  Not being able to see things makes it seem farther, I guess.”  The encouraging sound of a cow mooing reached them the next minute.  “That must be the one we heard yesterday,” said Han.  “I suppose there’s just one on the island and it’s set to go off at the same time every day.”

“If there’s a cow over there,” said Perry, staring into the fog, “maybe there’s a farmhouse.  Let’s have a look.”

“All right, but we’re just as likely to walk into a swamp as find a house.”

But a very few steps off the highway put them on a narrow lane and presently the big bulk of a barn loomed ahead.  The house was soon located and ten minutes later, having purchased two quarts of milk and four dozen eggs, they retraced their steps.  The fog had now apparently changed its mind about lifting, for the yellow tinge had gone and the world was once more grey and chill.  They donned their coats again and, carrying their precious burdens, trudged on.  Occasionally a puff of air came off the sound and the fog blew in trailing wreaths before them.  When they had walked what they considered to be the proper distance they began to watch for that lane.  And after they had watched for it for a full quarter of an hour and had walked a deal farther than they should have they reached the entirely justifiable conclusion that they were lost!

Perry set down the battered milk can on which they had paid a deposit of twenty-five cents, took a long breath and, viewing the encompassing fog, exclaimed melodramatically:  “Lost on Martha’s Vineyard, or The Mystery of the Four Dozen Eggs!”

“Well, we won’t starve for awhile,” laughed Han.  “Say, where is that lane we came up, anyway?  Think we’ve passed it?”

“About ten miles back,” sighed Perry.  “Come on and let’s try dead reckoning.  The beach is over there somewhere and if we can find it—­”

“Great!  But when we have found it, which way shall we go?”

Perry pushed his hat back and thoughtfully scratched his head.  “Give it up!” he said at last.  “You might go one way and I another.  Anyway, let’s find the old beach.”

They scrambled across a wall into a bush-grown tract, Han discovering in the process that he had chosen a place prettily bedecked with poison-ivy.  “That does for me,” said Han gloomily.  “I’ll have a fine time of it now for a couple of weeks.  I can’t even look at that stuff without getting poisoned!”

“Maybe it didn’t see you,” said Perry cheerfully.  “In this fog—­”