“That’s what you believe now, No. 8; but----” “Why do you call me No. 8? If I’m to be sent away from here it shows I never was one of the crew!” “But you have been, an’ always will be, Benny, lad. Even if you go away we shall never speak or think of you except as ‘No. 8,’ the gritty little mate who brought something like sunshine into the dull station, and kept the gleam there every minute he stayed with us.” “Don’t talk like that, Mr. Hardy, _please_ don’t talk like that! When you say you’re sorry, and yet keep on talking as if it was settled that I’d got to go, it breaks me all up!” “Poor little chicken, it strikes me you’re badly broken up already!” And Sam stroked the boy’s hair with his huge, rough hand, while Fluff crept under the life saver’s arm as if asking that he be given due share of the caresses. “If we of the crew did only that which pleased us best, you’d never have a show for leavin’; but, as Tom Downey says, we’re bound to think only of what may be for your good, an’ in making up our minds it is with the hope we’ll go right for your sake.” “That man, Andrew Foster, don’t care about Fluffy an’ me, ’cause he never so much as saw us!” “That same thought has been in my mind, Benny, lad, an’ Joe Cushing has been makin’ similar talk. If we were certain he’d care for you as we do, the matter would be settled, for it stands to reason you should have a different home than this. But I don’t like the way his letter reads, nor do the rest of the boys; so you see, lad, the question ain’t settled by a long chalk yet.” “Please try to make the men want to keep me! Please try, Mr. Hardy.” “Bless your heart, No. 8, there’s no need of my tryin’ to do anything of the kind. The only trouble is we’re so eager for you to stay that we’re afraid of ourselves--afraid we sha’n’t be actin’ square by you. Here’s Tom Downey been sayin’ that he’d be willin’ to give up ten dollars a month out of his pay for so long a time as he is in the service, for the sake of havin’ you ’round, an’ Dick Sawyer is threatenin’ all sorts of terrible things against your uncle because he wrote the letter. We want you, lad, as badly as you want to be with us, an’ that’s what’s makin’ it so hard to settle the matter.” Benny twined his arms around the surfman’s neck, and the latter, lifting him as tenderly as he would an infant, carried him back to the station, Fluff following close at his heels, barking with delight because they had finally decided to go in out of the cold wind. Now it was that Benny’s grief became more intense; this time because of the unusual tenderness and attention shown by every member of the crew. Each man appeared as if striving to show the boy some particular attention as proof of the esteem in which he was held, and try as he might, No. 8 could not hold back the tears of mingled pleasure and sorrow.