"That's so. How far were you off shore?"
"Not very far."
"You must have gone over before the storm set in."
"I should say so; and now as I've answered your questions, who are you?"
"I am a fisherman. I ran into the cove on account of the storm, and came over here to stay until daylight, or later if the storm holds."
"I reckon the storm won't hold much longer; it's only a passing tempest, and so make yourself comfortable. Will you have a bite?"
"Thank you, I had food with me in my boat."
"Will you cover a little whisky."
"I will!" came the hearty acceptance.
The two men had a long, pleasant talk, and our hero soon learned that his new acquaintance was a really honest fisherman—good, square man; and there are many of them on the Long Island coast, and no truer and better men can be found in any quarter of the globe.