“Of course it would, Dal,” Leslie replied, “but you can easily find out where the fishermen get their fish. I thought at first that I should never want to eat. It is almost enough to look. But now,—‘I dunno,’ as the song goes!”
“We’d better be getting back to the tents,” said Dalton. “Beth looks as if she had not had enough, but I’ll have to gather some wood for a fire and by the time we have our supper it will be dark. We can watch the sunset just as well from above.” With this, Dalton Secrest linked arms with the girls, and with one on each side of him ran as rapidly as sand would permit to where Elizabeth had found a seat upon a rock back of the sands.
“Come on, Beth. Time for eats. Les and Sairey Gamp are going to do the cooking while you sit out on the point with your little pencil to sketch.”
“Don’t you call me ‘Sairey Gamp,’ Dal Secrest,” laughed Sarita.
“Never you mind, Sairey, you can get it back on me. If I have any time left from building, fishing and bringing home the bacon, I shall be the wild pirate of Pirates’ Cove!”
“Listen to Dal!” cried Leslie. “You’d think that he had to support the family! But I will admit, Dal, that if ‘bacon’ is fish, it will certainly help out expenses.”
Dalton fell back with his older sister, Beth, while the two others went on, all directing their way to a spot some distance ahead, where the climb to the upper level was not difficult. All four were exhilarated by the new scenes, the beauty and almost mystery of the sea, the beach, the rocks and crags, and the invitation of the singing pines where their tents were pitched.
As anyone might surmise, their arrival was recent. Sensibly they had pitched their tents first, while Dalton could have the assistance of the man who drove them there; but after the necessary things were accomplished they hastened to get as close to the sea as possible, for none of them had ever seen it before.
It was one of the interesting spots on the much indented coast of Maine. There were an obscure little fishing village, a bay, into which a few small streams emptied, and a stretch of real coast, washed by the ocean itself. It was this beach which the newcomers had just visited with such pleasure, at a place varying in its outlines, from curving sands washed by a restless sea to high rocks and half-submerged boulders, where the water boiled and tossed.
As the summer visitors climbed the ascent, they noticed that in the village at their left most of the fishers’ cottages lay within easy reach of the beach proper, from which the launching of boats was easy. There was a dock, stout, but small. It was quite evident that no large vessels came in.