When the beach-wagon had been hauled into position, the work of rescuing the life savers from the lighter was trifling, and the three were no more than ashore before Keeper Downey cried sharply: “Now then, let’s get the apparatus home, and the patrol out as soon as may be. There’s some show of excuse for our not being able to save the property here; but in case a vessel came ashore while we were foolin’ around with a lot of lighters, and life should be lost, we’d find ourselves in a bad pickle.” The keeper was not the only member of the crew who feared that the night’s misadventure might have some fatal ending. The same thought was in the mind of every man, and it was not necessary to urge them forward. Benny welcomed the opportunity to restore the circulation of blood to his chilled limbs, and pushed with the utmost of his strength at the tail of the cart by the keeper’s side. The heavy wagon was dragged over the rocks and through the sand at a rate of speed which, under other circumstances, might have been impossible, and when they had nearly arrived at the station Tom Downey was less apprehensive regarding the possibility of a wreck, for at that moment they were passing over the highest point of the cliffs, from which a good view of the ocean could be had. Save for a few fleecy clouds, the sky was clear, and the twinkling stars gave out sufficient light to show that not a sail was within their range of vision. “I reckon we can count the worst of our work as bein’ over for this night; but there won’t be a very pretty picture alongshore to-morrow morning,” the keeper said to Benny, and the latter replied with a tone of thankfulness in his voice: “Things will look better than you believed at one time, Mr. Downey, for then it seemed as if you’d be called upon to hunt for the bodies of the crew among the wreckage.” “Right you are, my lad, and it’s little less than a sin to grumble because two or three lighters and a stranded steamer may have been broken up, when the crew came safely through as tough a place as they were ever in. It’s a great pity I allowed you to go with us.” “But I’ve come out of it without any more harm than any of the others, sir, and it will help me along in learning to be a surfman.” “You might have got the lesson in an easier fashion, lad. It’s hard enough for tough men like us to have the clothing frozen to our bodies, but a boy like you can’t well stand such hardships.” “But I’m all right, sir,” Benny replied, striving in vain to prevent his teeth from chattering with the cold. “Leastways, I will be as soon as we get to the station, and this work with the cart warms a fellow up wonderfully.” Downey did not reply until after a long pause, and then he said emphatically: “If pluck is necessary in the making of a good surfman, you should be a rare hand at the business, No. 8, before another year has passed.”