A COLLISION IN THE FOG


"Wow! Look at that one! That's a monster!"

"That must be the ninth wave."

"What do you mean by the ninth wave, Jack?"

"Why, Arnold, don't you know that every third wave is bigger than the
two preceding it and that every ninth wave is bigger than the preceding
eight?" queried Jack Stanley.

"No, can't say that I ever knew that," replied Arnold Poysor leaning out
of the pilot house of a sturdy motor boat plowing her way through the
waters of that part of the Gulf of Mexico known as Mississippi Sound.
"But I do know," he continued, "that if the Fortuna takes many more
green ones over her bow, we'll have to get something other than oilskins
to keep us dry!"

"Gee, I wish this fog would lift and let us find out where we are!" put
in a third member of the part. "This is fierce!"

"It's thicker than the mush we used to get in that South Water Street
restaurant when we were fitting out in Chicago!" declared the first
speaker. "That was a bum place to eat!"

"Never mind the eats!" replied the one addressed as "Jack." "Just you
keep that Klaxon going. You know we're on government waters here and the