Amos made no answer to his sister’s frightened exclamation. He was well used to the harbor, as he often went fishing with his father, and had been on cruises of several days. Tide and wind both took the boat swiftly toward Long Point, a low, narrow sand-beach, which ran out into the harbor.

“We’ll run straight into Long Point if the wind don’t change,” said Amos.

Anne had held fast to her line and now felt it tugging strongly in her grasp.

“I’ve caught something!” she exclaimed, “and I don’t believe I can ever pull it in.”

Amos reached across and seized the line. “Gee!” he exclaimed, “I’ll bet it’s a cod,” and he pulled valiantly. It took all the boy’s strength to get the big fish into the boat. “I’ll bet it weighs ten pounds,” declared Amos proudly, quite forgetting in his pleasure over the big fish that the boat was still moving swiftly away from the settlement.

“Amos, Amos, just see how fast we are going,” said Amanda; “we’ll be carried right out to sea.”

“Well, then some vessel will pick us up and bring us back,” answered her brother, “but it looks now as if we would bring up on Long Point, and we can walk home from there easy enough. It’s only a couple of miles.”

“Perhaps we could get home before they missed us,” suggested Anne, hopefully.

Amos nodded; he was still busy with the big fish, but in a few moments he began to look anxiously ahead.

“The wind’s pulling round to the southeast,” he said. “I guess we sha‘n’t hit Long Point after all.”

“We’re going right into Wood End,” declared Amanda, “or else to House Point Island. Oh, Amos, if we land on that island nobody will ever find us.”

“It will be better to land anywhere than to be carried beyond Race Point,” said Amos; “the wind is growing stronger every minute.”

The three children no longer felt any interest in their fish-lines. Amos had drawn his line in when they started off from shore, and Amanda had let go of hers when the first oar was lost. Anne was the only one who had kept a firm hold on her line, and now she drew it in and coiled it carefully around the smooth piece of wood to which it was fastened.

“I’ll get this boat ashore some way,” declared Amos boldly; “if we run near any land I’ll jump overboard with the painter and pull the dory to shore. I’ll get up in the bow now so’s to be ready.”

Neither of the little girls said anything. Amanda was ready to cry with fear, and Anne was watching the sky anxiously.

“The sun is all covered up with clouds,” she said, and before Amos could answer there came a patter of raindrops. The wind, too, increased in force and the waves grew higher. Anne and Amanda crouched low in the boat, while Amos in the bow peered anxiously ahead.

Within the curve of the shore of Race Point lay House Point Island, where Amos hoped they might land. It was a small island partly covered with scrubby thickets but no tall trees, and with shallow water all about it. Amos was sure that he could pull the clumsy boat to shore if the wind would only set a little in that direction. The September afternoon was growing late, the sky was now completely overcast, and the rain falling steadily.

“We’re getting near the island,” said Amos. “I’ll slide overboard in a minute, and all you girls need do is keep still till I tell you to jump,” and Amos, the painter of the dory in one hand, slipped over the high bow of the boat and struck out for shore. He was a strong swimmer, and managed to change the course of the boat so that it swung in toward the shallow water, and in a few minutes Amos got a foothold on the sand, and pulled strongly on the rope until the boat was well out of the outward sweep of the current.

“Now jump out,” he commanded; “you on one side, Anne, and Amanda on the other, and take hold of the side and help pull the boat ashore.”

The two girls obeyed instantly, and the three dripping children struggled up the beach, pulling the dory beyond reach of the tide.

“We must be sure this boat is safe,” said Amos; “if we can get it up a little further, we can tip it up on one side and crawl under and get out of the rain.”

The codfish, plaice and flounder Amos took out carefully and carried to a large rock further up the beach. “We’ll have to eat those fish if we stay here very long,” he said.

It grew dark early and the children, under the shelter of the boat, peered out at the rushing waves, listened to the wind, and were very glad that they were on shore, even if it was an island and miles away from home.

“Nobody can find us to-night,” said Anne, “but prob’ly to-morrow morning, first thing, my Uncle Enos and your father will take a boat and come sailing right down after us.”

“How will they know where we are?” whimpered Amanda. “We’ll have to stay here always; I know we shall.”

“If we do I’ll build a brush house,” said Amos hopefully, “and there’s lots of beach-plums grow on this island, I’ve heard folks say; and we’ll cook those fish and I’ll bet I can find mussels along the shore.”

“We can’t cook anything,” said Anne, “for we can’t make any fire.”

“I can make a fire when things get dry,” said Amos; “how do you suppose Indians make fires when they are off like this? An Indian doesn’t care where he is because he knows how to get things to eat and how to cook them, and how to make a shelter. I’ve wished lots of times that I’d had the chances to learn things that Indians have.”

The boat proved a shelter against the wind, and the long night wore slowly away. Amos slept soundly, but neither Anne nor Amanda could sleep, except in short naps from which they quickly awakened. The storm ceased in the night and the sun came up and sent its warm beams down on the shivering children, who crept out from the dory and ran and jumped about on the sand until they were quite warm and very hungry.

Amos went searching along the shore for the round dark-shelled mussels which he knew were good to eat, and Anne and Amanda went up toward the thick-growing bushes beyond the sand-banks to look for beach-plums.

“Look, Anne! Look! Did you ever see so many on one bush?” exclaimed Amanda, and the bush was indeed well filled with the appetizing fruit.

“We must take a lot to Amos,” said Anne, “for he is getting mussels for us now.”

“Yes, indeed,” agreed Amanda; “do you suppose they will come after us this morning, Anne?”

“Of course they will, first thing,” replied Anne hopefully, so that Amanda grew more cheerful, and when they got back to the boat with aprons full of beach-plums and found Amos waiting for them with a fine lot of fresh mussels they quite forgot to be troubled or unhappy. The sun was shining brightly, the blue water looked calm and smooth, and the wind had entirely gone. They ate the plums and mussels hungrily.

“We’d better look around a little,” said Amos, when they had finished, “and see if we can find a good place for a brush house. We ought to build it near the shore so that we can keep a watch for any passing boat.”

“Won’t father find us to-day?” asked Amanda anxiously.

“Can’t tell,” replied her brother; “anyway we want to get ready to build a house, for we might have to stay here a week.”

“I believe you want to stay a week, Amos Cary!” exclaimed his sister.

“I’d just as soon stay as not,” said Amos, “if I can find some rotten wood like the Indians use to start a fire; but it isn’t much use to look for it until things begin to dry up.”

Amos, followed closely by the little girls, went up the bank and toward a place where grew a thicket of small pines. “We can break off a lot of these branches and carry them down to the shore,” he said, “and fix some beds of them under one side of the dory. It will be better than sleeping on the sand.”

They made several trips back and forth to the boat with armfuls of pine boughs until they each had quite a pile, long and wide enough for a bed, and high enough to keep them well off the sand. But Amos was not satisfied.

“This sand-bank makes a good back for a house,” he said; “now if we could only build up sides, and fix some kind of a roof, it would make a fine house.”

“Won’t the dory do for one side?” asked Anne.

“No,” said Amos, “but we can pile up heaps of sand here on each side of our beds, right against this sand-bank, and that will make three sides of a house, and then we’ll think of something for the roof.”

So they all went to work piling up the sand. It was hard work, and it took a long time before the loose sand could be piled up high enough for Anne and Amanda to crouch down behind.

“I’m dreadful hungry,” said Amanda, after they had worked steadily for some time; “let’s rest and eat some mussels and beach-plums,” and Amos and Anne were both quite ready to stop work.

“It must be past noon now,” said Amos, looking at the sun, “and there hasn’t a boat come in sight.”

Anne had begun to look very serious. “My Aunt Martha may think that I have run away,” she said, as they sat leaning back against the piles of warm sand.

“No, she won’t,” Amos assured her, “for they’ll find out right off that Amanda and I are gone, and father’s dory, and it won’t take father or Captain Enos long to guess what’s happened; only they’ll think that we have been carried out to sea.”

The little girls were very silent after this, until Amos jumped up saying: “I’ve just thought of a splendid plan. We’ll pile up sand just as high as we can on both sides. Then I’ll take those fish-lines and cut them in pieces long enough to reach across from one sand heap to the other, and tie rocks on each end of the lines and put them across.”

“I don’t think fish-lines will make much of a roof,” said Amanda.

“And after I get the lines across,” went on Amos, not heeding what his sister had said, “we’ll lay these pine boughs across the lines. See? We can have the branches come well over each side and lap one row over another and make a fine roof,” and Amos jumped about, greatly pleased with his own invention.

They all returned to piling up sand and before sunset had made walls taller than their heads, and Amos had put the lines across and the covering of pine boughs, so that it was nicely roofed in.

“It will be a lot better than sleeping under the dory,” said Anne, as they looked proudly at the little shelter, “and there’s pine boughs enough left for beds, too!”

“We can get more to-morrow,” said Amos, “and we’ll have a fire to-morrow if I can only find some punk, and cook those fish.”

“But I want to go home to-morrow,” said Amanda; “I know my mother wants me. We’ve got a boat; can’t you make an oar and row us home, Amos?”

“There isn’t anything to make an oar out of,” answered Amos.

They made their supper on more mussels and beach-plums, and then lay down on their beds of boughs in the little enclosure. They could see the moon shining over the water, the big dory hauled up in front of their shelter, and they all felt very glad that they were not drifting out at sea.

Amos had many plans in his head, and was eager for another day to come that he might carry them out, but Amanda and Anne went to sleep hoping only that the next day would see one of the big fishing-boats of Province Town come sailing up to the island to take them safely home.