"No," replied Larry.
Back he trudged to Bailey's cabin. It was about three o'clock when he reached there, and
he found the fisherman sitting beside the table, drinking some hot tea.
"I thought you'd got lost," spoke the fisherman.
"I went to help 'em launch the boat. They needed me. George Tucker was coming for you, but I told him of the man we saved. How is he?"
"Doing well. He's asleep in the next room. He had been struck on the head by something, and that was what made him senseless. It wasn't the water. I soon brought him around. How about the wreck?"
Larry told all he knew. Bailey insisted on the young reporter drinking two cups of steaming hot tea, and Larry felt much better after it. Then he and the fisherman stretched out on the floor to wait until morning, which would soon break.
Bailey was up early, and his movements in the hut as he shook down the fire and made coffee, aroused Larry.
"We'll get a bit of breakfast and then we'll go down to the station," said the fisherman. "I guess our man will be all right."
He went outside to bring in some wood. A moment later the door of the inner room, where the rescued man was, opened, and a head was thrust out.