and I'm thinkin' more snow."

"How long a trip is it?" asked Charley.

"'Tis a short cruise. With a fair wind like we has now we makes un in
five or six hours, whatever," explained Skipper Zeb. "We never bides
here so late in the year. 'Tis wonderful late for us. We always goes
before the end of September month. This year I stays to help Mr.
McClung."

"It's a fine, big boat," said Charley.

"She's a wonderful fine boat!" boasted Skipper Zeb. "Twenty-eight foot
over all. I buys she last year from a schooner crew, south bound after
the fishin' ends. They wants to sell she bad, because they has no room
to stow she on deck, and in the rough sea that were runnin' they
couldn't tow she. I buys she for thirty dollars!"

"That was cheap, I should think," said Charley.

"'Twere, now!" and there was pride in Skipper Zeb's voice. "I'll tell
you how 'twere. We needs a trap boat wonderful bad for our cruisin', and
I says to Mrs. Twig, 'We'll skimp and save till we gets enough saved to
buy un.' So each year we saves a bit, sometimes more and sometimes less,
goin' without this and that, and not mindin', because when we goes
without somethin' we thinks about what a fine boat 'tis goin' to help us
get. And so we keeps savin' and savin' and skimpin' and skimpin'. We
were savin' for un for four years----"

"Five years, Zeb," Mrs. Twig corrected.

"You're right, Sophia, 'twere five years, and we has thirty dollars
saved. Then along comes the schooner with the boat, and the skipper says
to me, 'Skipper Zeb, you wants a trap boat. I'll sell you this un.' 'How
much does you want for un?' says I. 'You can have she for fifty
dollars,' says he, 'and that's givin' she to you.' 'All I has is thirty
dollars,' says I. 'Give me the thirty dollars and take un,' says he.
'I'd have to leave un behind whatever.' And so I gets un."

"You _were_ lucky!" said Charley.

"Lucky! Not that!" objected Skipper Zeb. "'Twere the Lard's doin's. He
knows how bad I wants un, and how we skimps to get un, and He says to
that skipper, 'You just sell that trap boat to Skipper Zeb Twig for
thirty dollars,' and the skipper just ups and sells un to me. _I_ says
the Lard were good, and I thanks _He_ for un, and not luck."

The northeast wind was rising. Charley huddled down in the bottom of the
boat, where he found some protection. A gray dawn was breaking, and this
is the coldest and bleakest hour of the day. With dawn both wind and
cold increased, until by mid