.

"Seven o'clock!" exclaimed Leopold, leaping from the bed. "I didn't go
to sleep till after midnight, and that's the reason I didn't wake up."

"You needn't get up if you don't feel able to do so," added the
landlord.

"O, I'm able enough," protested Leopold, half dressed by this time.

"I should like to have you go down and see if you can get some fish for
dinner," added his father.

"All right. I will get some, if there is any in the sea," answered the
young man, as he finished his primitive toilet.

In fifteen minutes more, he had eaten his breakfast, and was descending
the steep path to the river, where the Rosabel was moored. The weather
was cloudy, and out at sea it looked as if the fog would roll in, within
a short time, as it often did during the spring and summer. Indeed, the
one bane of this coast, as a pleasure resort, is the prevalence of dense
and frequently long-continued fog. Sometimes it shrouds the shores for
several days at a time; and it has been known to last for weeks. It is
cold, penetrating, and disagreeable to the denizen of the city, seeking
ease and comfort in a summer home.

When the sloop passed Light House Point, Leopold saw that the dense fog
had settled down upon the bay, and had probably been there all night.
But he did not bother his head about the fog, for he knew the sound
which the waves made upon every portion of the shore. As one skilled in
music knows the note he hears, Leopold identified the swash or the roar
of the sea when it beat upon the rocks and the beaches in the vicinity.
By these sounds he knew where he was, and he had a boat-compass on board
of the Rosabel, which enabled him to lay his course, whenever he
obtained his bearings.

Before the sloop had gone a quarter of a mile she was buried in the fog,
and Leopold could see nothing but the little circle of water of which
the Rosabel was the centre. With the compass on the floor of the
standing-room, he headed the sloop for the ledges, outside of which he
expected to find plenty of cod and haddock. The wind was rather light,
but it was sufficient to give the Rosabel a good headway, and in half an
hour he recognized the roar of the billows upon the ledges. Going near
enough to them to bring the white spray of the breaking waves within the
narrow circle of his observation, he let off his main sheet, and headed
the sloop directly out to sea.

The best fishing ground at this season was about two miles from the
ledg