Steve said
it was not quite so thick, but no one else was able to see much
difference in it. Han managed to subsist on one egg, in spite of gloomy
predictions, but after breakfast he and Perry decided to paddle ashore
and find a place where they could purchase more. They tried to add to
the party, but no one else wanted to go, and so they disappeared into
the mist about nine o'clock, agreeing to be back at ten-thirty, at which
time, unless the fog should have lifted, those aboard the boat were to
sound the whistle.
They landed on a narrow beach after a short row, and, stumbling through
a fringe of coarse sand, discovered a lane leading inland. They stopped
and strove to remember the location of the boat, and then followed the
lane. The fog was amber-hued now and the morning was fast losing its
chill. Perry broke into song and Han into a tuneless whistle that seemed
to give him a deal of satisfaction. They soon found a main-travelled
road and, after fixing the turn-off in their minds, wheeled to the left.
"It would be a fine joke if we couldn't find the dingey again," chuckled
Han.
"I think you've got a punk idea of humour," responded Perry. "Anyway,
all we'd have to do is find the beach and keep along until we barked our
skins on the boat.
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