? ? ? ? Wolf Larsen at once squared away and ran down along the rim of the fog-bank. His trick was obvious. He had entered the fog to windward of the steamer, and while the steamer had blindly driven on into the fog in the chance of catching him, he had come about and out of his shelter and was now running down to reenter to leeward. Successful in this, the old simile of the needle in the haystack would be mild indeed compared with his brother's chance of finding him.
? ? ? ? He did not run long. Jibing the fore-and mainsails and setting the topsails again, we headed back into the bank. As we entered I could have sworn I saw a vague bulk emerging to windward. I looked quickly at Wolf Larsen. Already we were ourselves buried in the fog, but he nodded his head. He, too, had seen it- the Macedonia, guessing his maneuver and failing for a moment in anticipating it. There was no doubt that we had escaped unseen.
? ? ? ? 'He can't keep this up,' Wolf Larsen said.
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