CHAPTER THREE
FOGGY DAYS AND WOODCRAFT WAYS
“LET’S get at that trawl as soon as we can,” announced Fred, as he entered the bungalow at breakfast time in the morning. “Captain says we may have a spell of foggy weather.”
“Why, it’s clear enough now,” said Dudley, in surprise.
“But look down the bay, that is not a cloud bank that you see off Rockland, that’s fog,” said Mr. Remington. “And if that southerly breeze continues we’ll get it thick.”
“But it is calm up here, so how do you know there’s a breeze down there and how do you know it’s a southerly?” questioned Dudley, who really was anxious to learn the “salt-water” wrinkles he perceived were of the utmost value in Island life.
“Don’t you see that schooner way down there? Look, how she is getting the wind,” was the enlightening reply from Fred.
“See, Dudley, the northerly wind that was blowing when we got up this morning, has all died out,” said Mrs. Remington. “And don’t you feel a curious chill in the air although the sun is still bright?”
A STRING OF CUNNERS CAUGHT BY SHELBY.