“Do you know, I believe he’s proud of his blanket? I tried to take it off before we came down, and he growled terribly.” “It’ll be a good thing for him when the weather is biting cold, an’ you’d better let him wear it a spell.” Then Benny went up-stairs again in order to change his clothes once more, preparatory to assisting the cook, and a stranger would have found it difficult to decide whether the boy or the crew of men were most pleased because of the new clothes. During the four days which followed the arrival of the uniform, No. 8 was kept busily employed about the station, except during such times as he went on patrol with Sam Hardy. Because of the wreckers in the vicinity, and the many visitors who came to see the stranded steamer, it seemed as if the buildings were thronged with strangers during the greater portion of each day, and when the lad was not at work in the kitchen, he found quite as much as he could conveniently do in “cleaning up” after the careless ones, who appeared to think it would make little difference to a “crew of men” if a greater or less amount of mud or snow was brought in on the cleanly scrubbed floors. “If the steamer ain’t hauled off mighty soon, No. 8 will wear himself down to skin an’ bone, trying to make the place look tidy,” Dick Sawyer said after a party of slovenly visitors had taken their departure. “It makes me tired to see him running around from mornin’ till night with a swab in his hands, an’ ten minutes after he’s scrubbed every board clean, a fresh layer of dirt is brought in.” “He’ll get a rest by to-morrow, I’m thinking,” Joe Cushing replied, “an’ it wouldn’t surprise me such a terrible sight if all the wreckers’ work was undone before twenty-four hours go by.” “We may get a little blow from the eastward, but I ain’t countin’ on anything that can be called a storm,” Dick said carelessly as he followed No. 8 into the oil-room. Before night had come there were many in and around the station who shared Joe Cushing’s opinion as to the weather. Everything about the wreck was made as snug as possible; extra hawsers were run out, the hatches battened down, and the lighters anchored in deep water. Instead of lying off the cove when the day’s work was done, the tugs ran over to the city, and all the small boats were hauled up beyond reach of the waves. Sam Hardy was the first to go on patrol this night, and, as a matter of course, Benny accompanied him, for since the affair in the hold of the steamer the surfman had appeared more than usually eager for the companionship of his young comrade. “We’re gettin’ the fat of the work this night,” Hardy said as the two left the building. “What do you mean by that? Ain’t we going to stay out the full four hours?” “Indeed we are, lad; but the wind won’t get up much before midnight, an’ when it does come I’m thinkin’ it will bring rain.” “Then you believe as Mr. Cushing does?”