When the rescued lad was tucked snugly between a generous supply of blankets, the dog curled himself up on the outside of the bed with his nose close beside the boy’s cheek, and Keeper Downey muttered to himself as he descended the stairs: “If all the ship’s crew had been put away as safe and comfortable as those two, we should have done a night’s work of which we might well be proud.” Then out into the howling, wintry blast went the men who had brought the lad and the dog to the station, and during the remainder of that terrible night every man did patrol duty, pacing to and fro along the rocky shore, or keeping faithful watch over the narrow strip of beach, in the faint hope that there might be other survivors, although there was little chance that such could be the case. To continue the official report: “Only remnants of spars and cargo, however, were cast at their feet, and when daylight finally dawned all eyes were intently turned toward the wreck with a vague hope that, by some altogether improbable possibility, there might be some signs of living men on board. But there were none. “The forward and after parts of the dismembered hull were seen to be from thirty to forty yards apart, lying at nearly a right angle with each other, the former head on, and the latter, on which no masts appeared, thrown on its beam ends, inclined toward the shore. “The foremast and foretopmast, bowsprit and jib-boom, with most of the fore-rigging, were still in place, and the lower yard was crossed amid a confusion of tattered sails and tangled ropes. The waves ran high up the mast, breaking almost into the foretop, and shreds and fragments of the cargo of jute wrapped themselves like ragged garments around the shrouds and stays. “A dead body was discovered entangled in the rigging on the after part of the wreck; but the keeper did not deem it necessary to make an attempt to go out with a boat while the surf was still extremely dangerous, therefore this mournful duty was postponed until the following day.” There was nothing to be learned by remaining where they were exposed to the full fury of the gale, which had not abated, and the weary crew, saddened because they had not been permitted to save more lives, returned to the station, each man’s garments so thickly encrusted with ice that only limited movement was possible. A large ship had foundered hardly more than half a pistol-shot distant from the building, and of all on board only a small boy and a tiny dog had been rescued from the merciless waves. “We’ll wait till the lad wakens, and then most likely he can give us a smattering of the details, although I don’t allow he knows very much regarding the disaster, for he must have been lashed to that spar either just before, or immediately after, the ship struck,” Keeper Downey said as he sought to refresh himself with the contents of a steaming bowl of coffee. CHAPTER III. BENNY’S STORY.