“It’s no joke,” said one, shaking his head.  The others said nothing, but their faces spoke volumes.

“What had we better do?” asked Bruce.

“Of course ye’ll be off as soon as ye can get off,” said one.

“The lad might have a chance,” said another.  “The return tide may drift him back, but he may be carried too far down for that.”

“He’ll be carried below Cape Chignecto unless he gets to the land,” said another.

“Isn’t there a chance that he’ll be picked up?” asked Bart.

The man to whom he spoke shook his head.

“There’s a deal of fog in the bay this night,” said he.

“Fog?  Why, it’s clear enough here.”

“So it is; but this place and the Bay of Fundy are two different things.”

“A regular sou-wester out there,” said another man.

“An a pooty heavy sea by this time,” said another.

And in this way they all contributed to increase the anxiety of the two boys, until at last scarce a ray of hope was left.

“You’d better prepare yourselves for the worst,” said one of the men.  “If he had an oar he would be all right; but, as it is—­well, I don’t care about sayin what I think.”

“O, you’re all too despondent,” said Mrs. Watson.  “What is the use of looking on the dark side?  Come, Bart, cheer up.  I’ll look on the bright side.  Hope for the best.  Set out on the search with hope, and a good heart.  I’m confident that he will be safe.  You will pick him up yourselves, or else you will hear of his escape somewhere.  I remember two men, a few years ago, that went adrift and were saved.”

“Ay,” said one of the men, “I mind that well.  They were Tom Furlong and Jim Spencer.  But that there boat was a good-sized fishing boat; an such a boat as that might ride out a gale.”

“Nonsense,” said Mrs. Watson.  “You’re all a set of confirmed croakers.  Why, Bart, you’ve read enough shipwreck books to know that little boats have floated in safety for hundreds of miles.  So hope for the best; don’t be down-hearted.  I’ll send two or three men down now to get the boat ready for you.  You can’t do anything till the morning, you know.  Won’t you stay here?  You had better go to bed at once.”

But Bart and Bruce could not think of bed.

“Well, come back any time, and a bed will be ready for you,” said Mrs. Watson.  “If you want to see about the boat now, the men are ready to go with you.”

With those words she led the way out to the kitchen, where a couple of men were waiting.  Bart and Bruce followed them down to a boat-house on the river bank, and saw the boat there which Mrs. Watson had offered them.  This boat could be launched at any time, and as there was nothing more to be done, the boys strolled disconsolately about, and finally went to the end of the promontory, and spent a long time looking out over the water, and conversing sadly about poor Tom’s chances.