The fishing season had passed almost before they realized it.

The weeks of idleness had been costly ones, and when the time came for them to return to the cabins at the head of Abel's Bay, and make ready for winter, they had garnered little of the harvest that had promised so well.
"Every season can't be a good one for us," remarked Skipper Ed as they struck their camp.

"Better luck next year; better luck.

And we should be mighty thankful we're all alive and all well.

That's good luck--good luck, after all." But they were to be denied many things that winter that the fish they had not caught would have brought them.