After hard work the men who had been tossed into the water when the boat went over managed to get it right side up again. Then a rope was made fast to it and horses on shore, pulling on the cable, hauled the boat up out of reach of the waves, where it would stay until it was time to make another trip to the nets.
"Could we take some of the fish?" asked Russ of George.
"Oh, yes, as many as you like," said his friend. "The fishermen can never pick them all up."
So the six little Bunkers each picked up a fish and took it home to Cousin Ruth. They were nice and fresh and she cooked them for dinner.
"Well, you youngsters had better luck than Cousin Tom and I had," said Daddy Bunker with a laugh as he saw what Russ and the others had picked up. "I guess, after this, we'll take you fishing with us."
The promise of the storm brought by the big waves that upset the fishing-boat, came true. That night the wind began to rise and to blow with a howling and mournful sound about the bungalow. But inside it was cosy and light.
In the morning, when the children awakened, it was raining hard, the drops dashing against the windows as though they wanted to break the glass and get inside.
"Is the sea very rough now, Daddy?" asked Russ after breakfast.
"Yes, I think it is," was the answer. "Would you like to see it?"
Russ thought he would, and Laddie wanted to go also, but his mother said he was too small to go out in the storm.