The moment the major’s foot was firmly planted upon the Ledge a marked change was visible in him. The straight back, head up, rear-admiral manner, which had distinguished him, gave way to one of a thoughtful repose. Engineering problems began to absorb him. Leaving Hardy and Smearly to help the older ladies pick their way over the mortar-incrusted platforms and up and down the rude ladders to the top rim of masonry, he commenced inspecting the work with the eye of a skilled mechanic. He examined carefully the mortar joints of the masonry; squinted his eye along the edges of the cut stones to see if they were true; turned it aloft, taking in the system of derricks, striking one with the palm of his hand and listening for the vibration, to assure himself of its stability. And he asked questions in a way that left no doubt in the minds of the men that he was past grand master in the art of building lighthouses. All but one man. This doubter was Lonny Bowles, whom the Pocomokian had cared for in the old warehouse hospital the night of the explosion. Bowles had quietly dogged the major’s steps over the work, in the hope of being recognized. At last the good-natured lineaments of the red-shirted quarryman fastened themselves upon the major’s remembrance. “My dear suh!” he broke out, as he jumped down from a huge coping-stone and grasped Lonny’s hand. “Of co’se I remember you. I sincerely hope you’re all right again,” stepping back and looking him over with an expression of real pride and admiration. “Oh yes, I’m purty hearty, thank ye,” said Bowles, laughing as he hitched his sleeves up his arms, bared to the elbow. “How’s things gone ’long o’ yerself?” The major expressed his perfect satisfaction with life in its every detail, and was about to compliment Bowles on the wonderful progress of the work so largely due to his efforts, when the man at the hoisting-engine interrupted with, “Don’t stand there now lalligaggin’, Lonny. Where ye been this half hour? Hurry up with that monkey-wrench. Do you want this drum to come off?” Lonny instantly turned his attention to the work. When he had given the last turn to the endangered nut, the man said, “Who’s the duck with the bobtail coat, Lonny?”