Darry made his regular pilgrimage to the marsh in spite of the rain, and this time found only two prizes to reward his diligence.
From this he determined that it was time to make a change of base, and set his traps in other places where the game might not be so wary.
At any rate he was having no further trouble with the Dilks crowd, and in that he found more or less satisfaction.
Unconscious of the fact that he was being watched from time to time by one of the cronies of which Jim boasted, Darry went about his business, satisfied to do his daily duties, and each night count some progress made.
Twice had he crossed the bay to the strip of sandy beach where the tides of the mighty Atlantic pounded unceasingly, day and night.
His coming was always eagerly anticipated by the whole crew of the life-saving station, and for a good reason.
It happened that on his visit just after the easterly storm had blown out, while they were all gathered around just before dark, chatting and joking, Darry cocked up his ear at the tweeking sound of a fiddle, which one of the men had drawn out of its case, and was endeavoring to play.
Altogether he made a most doleful series of sounds, which upon analysis might prove to be an attempt to play "Annie Laurie," though one would need all his wits about him to settle whether this were the tune, or "Home, Sweet Home."
The men looked daggers at the player, for the screeching sounds were certainly anything but pleasant.
Darry sauntered over. He had played since a little lad, some Italian having first taught him; and on the brigantine Captain Harley had a violin of more than ordinary make, with which he had coaxed the cabin boy to make melody by the hour.