Acting upon the keeper’s orders, the little form was released from the bonds of rope which held it fast to the spar, and with all speed carried to the building where could be found everything needful for the coming struggle against death. It was a small boy, apparently ten or twelve years of age, who had been rescued, and as the kindly men with tender care removed the icy clothing, they were startled, almost alarmed for the moment, by seeing a very small dog, his long white hair soaked with water, leap from beneath the lad’s tightly buttoned pea-jacket. The animal shook itself, looked quickly around with a low whine, and, recognizing the boy, began eagerly licking his face, as if understanding that immediate aid of some kind was necessary. The members of the crew had lost no time in taking such measures as were needful, and although the small dog growled furiously when they rolled the boy face downward, having previously laid him upon the floor of the station, the efforts at resuscitation were both skilful and vigorous. Before the work had fairly begun the lad showed signs of life by opening his eyes, and his first glance fell upon the dog, which was standing near by, wagging its tail furiously as if to attract attention. “I reckon he’s coming around all right,” Keeper Downey said in a tone of satisfaction, and then, noting the troubled look which suddenly came over the little fellow’s face, he asked quickly, “What is it, my son? What are you wanting?” “Is Mrs. Clark here?” “Who is she?” “The captain’s wife.” “She hasn’t come ashore yet; but you’re not to trouble your head about anything except getting the best of the salt water you’ve taken aboard.” “You must be careful of Fluff until she gets here.” “Meaning this little bundle of hair?” the keeper asked with a laugh, laying his hand on the dog’s head. “Yes, sir; she thinks very much of him, an’ I promised to keep him close in my arms if it so happened that we had to come ashore lashed to the spar.” “I reckon you couldn’t have done different, tied together as you two were,” Surfman Dick Sawyer said with a laugh, and the keeper added kindly: “There’s no need to fret about the dog; he shall have the run of the station, and there’s nothing to harm him while old Maje is in the boat-house--Maje is our dog,” Downey added as he read the question in the boy’s eyes. “He’s large enough to swallow two or three like this little one here; but I’ll answer for it your Fluff isn’t in any danger, and to set your mind at rest he shall stay close by you till morning. We’ll put you to bed now, I reckon; there’s other work for us outside.” “I can take care of myself, sir,” the lad said bravely, as he attempted to struggle to his feet, the dog meanwhile barking furiously as if cautioning his young master against being too venturesome. “I thought you couldn’t do it,” Keeper Downey said, catching the boy in time to prevent a fall, and without further parley he carried him to the sleeping-room above.