off; but she don't budge.

"Hang it all!" says Payne, shuttin' off the engine. "I guess we're
stuck."

"Then why not have the picnic right here?" pipes up Mabel.

"Here!" snaps Payne. "But I don't know where we are."

"Oh, what's the difference?" says Mabel. "Besides, I'm hungry."

"I want to get out of this, though," says Payne. "I mean to keep going
until I know where I am."

"Oh, fudge!" says Mabel. "This is good enough. And if we stay here
and have a nice luncheon perhaps the fog will go away. What's the
sense in drifting around when you're hungry?"

That didn't seem such bad dope, either. Vee sides with Mabel, and
while Payne don't like the idea he gives in. We seem to have landed
somewhere. So we carts the baskets and things ashore, finds a flat
place up on the rocks, and then the three of us tackles the job of
hoistin' Mabel onto dry land. And it was some enterprise, believe me!

"Goodness!" pants Mabel, after we'd got her planted safe. "I don't
know how I'm ever going to get back."

We didn't, either; but after we'd spread out five kinds of sandwiches
within her reach, poured hot coffee out of the patent bottles, opened
the sardines and pickles, set out the cake and doughnuts, Mabel ceases