ly carried the reporter off his feet. He looked about
for a place of shelter.

"Better come with me," suggested the man. "There are no hotel
accommodations here, though there once were. I have a shack down on
the beach, and you're welcome to what I've got. I fish for a living.
Bailey's my name. Bert Bailey."

"Go ahead. I'll follow," returned Larry. "I'd like to get out of
this rain."

"Have to tog you out like me," said the old fisherman, as he led the
youth toward his hut. "These are the only things for this weather."

As they hastened on there came over the water the boom of a signal
gun from the wrecked steamer.

CHAPTER II

ASHORE ON A RAFT

"What's that?" asked the young reporter, pausing.

"She's firing for help," replied the fisherman. "Can't last much
longer now."

"Can't the life savers do anything?"

"They'll try, as soon as they can. Hard to get a boat off in this
surf. It comes up mighty fast and heavy. Have to use the breeches
buoy, I reckon. But come on, and I'll lend you some dry things to
put on."

Five minutes later Larry was inside the hut. It was small,
consisting of only two rooms, but it was kept as neatly as though it
was part of a ship.

In a small stove there was a blazing fire of driftwood, and Larry
drew near to the grateful heat, for, though it was only late in
September, it was much colder at the beach than in the city, and he
was chilly from the drenching.

"Lucky I happened to see you," Bailey went on. "I went down to the
train to get my paper. One of the brakemen throws me one off each
trip. It's all the news I get. I didn't expect any one down. This
used to be quite a place years ago, but it's petered out. But come
on, get your wet things off, and I'll see what I can do for you."

Larry was glad enough to do so. Fortunately he had brought some
extra underwear in his valise, and, after a good rub-down before the
stove, he donned the garments, and then put on a pair of the
fisherman's trousers and an old coat, until his own clothes could
dry.

As he sat before the stove, warm and comfortable after the
drenching, and safe from the storm, which was now raging with
increased fury outside, Larry heard the deep booming of the signal
guns coming to him from across the angry sea.

"Are they in any danger?" he asked of Bailey, as the fisherman
prepared to get a meal.

"Danger? There's always danger on the sea, my boy. I wouldn't want
to be on that vessel, and I've