They came, finally, in sight of a cabin back under the bank on the
far side of the little cove, where once Tunis had reaped clams while
Cap'n Ira and the Queen of Sheba made their unfortunate slide down
the face of the bluff. The sea was so low now that Tunis could aid
the girl across the mouth of the tiny inlet on the sand bar which
defended it from the sea. There was but one channel over which she
need leap with his help.
The cabin captivated Sheila, especially when she learned it was no
longer occupied. It had a tight tin roof and a cement-pipe chimney
with a cap to keep the rain out. The window sashes had been carried
away and the door hung by a single hinge. However, the one-roomed
cabin was otherwise tight and dry.
"Sometimes fishing parties from the port come around here and camp
for a day or two," explained Tunis. "But Hosea Westcott used to live
here altogether. Even in the winter. He caught his own fish and
split and dried them; he dug clams and picked beach plums and sold
them in town, or swapped them for what he needed. Sometimes the
neighbors gave him a day's work."
"An old and lonely man, Tunis?" the girl murmured.
"That is what he was. All his immediate family was gone.
Pages:
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196