On With Torchy by Sewell Ford
page 211 of 289 (73%)
page 211 of 289 (73%)
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explainin' how the engine worked. As far as them two went, Mabel and
me was only so much excess baggage. "Why, we're clear out beyond Squirrel!" exclaims Mabel at last. "Ask Payne where we're going to stop for our picnic. I'm getting hungry." "Oh, yes," says Payne, "we must be thinking about landing. I had planned to run out to Damariscove; but that looks like a fog bank hanging off there. Perhaps we'd better go back to Fisherman's Island, after all. Tell her Fisherman's." I couldn't see what the fog bank had to do with it--not then, anyway. Why, it was a peach of a day,--all blue sky, not a sign of a cloud anywhere, and looked like it would stay that way for a week. He keeps the Vixen headed out to sea for awhile longer, and then all of a sudden he circles short and starts back. "Fog!" he shouts over his shoulder to Mabel. "Oh, bother!" says Mabel. "I hate fog. And it is coming in too." Yes, that bank did seem to be workin' its way toward us, like a big, gray curtain that's bein' shoved from the back drop to the front of the stage. You couldn't see it move, though; but as I watched blamed if it don't creep up on an island, a mile or so out, and swallow it complete, same as a picture fades off a movie screen when the lights go wrong. Just like that. Then a few wisps of thin mist floats by, makin' things a bit hazy ahead. Squirrel Island, off to the left, disappears like it had gone to the bottom. The mainland shore grows vague and blurred, and the first thing we know we ain't anywhere at all, the scenery's all |
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