“Dunno as thet would ba’ made any differ.  We’re both scared out o’ ten years’ growth.  Oh, Harve, did ye see his head?”

“Did I?  I’ll never forget it.  But look at here, Dan; it couldn’t have been meant.  It was only the tide.”

“Tide!  He come for it, Harve.  Why, they sunk him six miles to south’ard o’ the Fleet, an’ we’re two miles from where she’s lyin’ now.  They told me he was weighted with a fathom an’ a half o’ chain-cable.”

“Wonder what he did with the knife—­up on the French coast?”

“Something bad.  ’Guess he’s bound to take it with him to the Judgment, an’ so—­ What are you doin’ with the fish?”

“Heaving ’em overboard,” said Harvey.

“What for?  We sha’n’t eat ’em.”

“I don’t care.  I had to look at his face while I was takin’ the belt off.  You can keep your catch if you like.  I’ve no use for mine.”

Dan said nothing, but threw his fish over again.

“Guess it’s best to be on the safe side,” he murmured at last.  “I’d give a month’s pay if this fog ’u’d lift.  Things go abaout in a fog that ye don’t see in clear weather—­yo-hoes an’ hollerers and such like.  I’m sorter relieved he come the way he did instid o’ walkin’.  He might ha’ walked.”

“Don’t, Dan!  We’re right on top of him now.  ’Wish I was safe aboard, hem’ pounded by Uncle Salters.”

“They’ll be lookin’ fer us in a little.  Gimme the tooter.”  Dan took the tin dinner-horn, but paused before he blew.

“Go on,” said Harvey.  “I don’t want to stay here all night”

“Question is, haow he’d take it.  There was a man frum down the coast told me once he was in a schooner where they darsen’t ever blow a horn to the dories, becaze the skipper—­not the man he was with, but a captain that had run her five years before—­he’d drowned a boy alongside in a drunk fit; an’ ever after, that boy he’d row along-side too and shout, ‘Dory! dory!’ with the rest”

“Dory! dory!” a muffled voice cried through the fog.  They cowered again, and the horn dropped from Dan’s hand.

“Hold on!” cried Harvey; “it’s the cook.”

“Dunno what made me think o’ thet fool tale, either,” said Dan.  “It’s the doctor, sure enough.”

“Dan!  Danny!  Oooh, Dan!  Harve!  Harvey!  Oooh, Haarveee!”

“We’re here,” sung both boys together.  They heard oars, but could see nothing till the cook, shining and dripping, rowed into them.

“What iss happened?” said he.  “You will be beaten at home.”

“Thet’s what we want.  Thet’s what we’re sufferin’ for” said Dan.  “Anything homey’s good enough fer us.  We’ve had kinder depressin’ company.”  As the cook passed them a line, Dan told him the tale.

“Yess!  He come for hiss knife,” was all he said at the end.