"I am glad to have the old light-house there to-night," Rex retorted. "Since our fathers did have to run down to Key West to reach the telegraph office, the light will help them find the way back if they come to-night. No matter how many squalls come, nor how dark the night, the light is always a sure thing. You know there are three keepers, and two of them have to be always on duty." "Yes," Nick answered, "this Alligator Light is one of the largest and most important on the whole coast--a 'light of the first order,' they call it, visible 20-3/4 miles. They say it's 135 feet high, and cost nearly $200,000." "Phew!" Rex whistled. "It ought to be a good one at that price. Well, the light will be blinking at us pretty soon now. I notice they always light it at sunset, and that can't be many minutes off." "Now, den, gemmens, yo' suppahs is all ready, sahs," came the welcome voice of Cudjoe from the hall door. The boys had been longing for this call, for a day's fishing had made them hungry. "What's this, Cudjoe?" Rex asked, as they entered the dining-room and saw the meal the "boy" had prepared. "More green turtle soup to-night?" "No, sah; dat loggerhead turtle soup dis time, sah. I ketch him on de beach dis mawnin', sah. An' here's minced turtle, sah, an' dere is some b'iled turtle eggs. Under de kiver is some fried flyin'-fish, sah; an' I done think you might like some sweet pineapple fresh ourn de field, sah." "You're a famous old cook, Cudjoe," Nick exclaimed, as they both fell to eating. "I'm afraid we're living too high down here with our turtle soup every day." "We're getting to be regular al--" Rex was about to say aldermen, but before he could finish the word there came a sharp flash of lightning, with a tremendous peal of thunder right on top of it. The boys looked at each other, but before they could speak the wind and rain followed. A squall among the Florida Keys comes with a crash and a flood of water; trees bend to the ground, houses shake and sometimes fall; everything is black and grand and wet. The old house trembled under the blow, and the rain on the roof sounded like tons of water falling upon the shingles. "There's the squall," Rex said, after a few seconds had passed. "I hope it doesn't turn into anything worse, and I think I'd give something nice if the folks were safe on shore." "So should I," Nick answered, "but I think they'll be all right. And as we can't stop the storm, we may as well finish our suppers." That was comforting philosophy for two hungry fishermen, and the boys ate while the storm raged, and made up for much lost time. They could not look out, because there is no glass in the windows of the Keys, only board shutters, and Cudjoe had shut the shutters. Rex was the first to find that he positively could eat no more, and leaving Nick still seated at the table, he pushed back his chair and went out to the piazza to look at the weather. An instant later the cry rang through the house: "Nick! Nick!"