“That comes of your having been thrown among us; but once you go out into the world you’ll have different ideas.” “I’ve seen quite a bit of it already, sir, and never thought so much of what I might be able to do,” Benny replied meekly. “I’ll admit, lad, that you’ve knocked around considerable for one of your age--seen more of the world than any of us; but--I’ll tell you what it is, Benny, you shall learn the drill, and when spring comes we’ll show you how to handle a boat, although I’m not certain any of the crew would agree to your entering this branch of the service.” The conversation came to an end at this point for the time being, so far as Benny was concerned; but when Tom Downey had an opportunity of speaking privately with the crew, he repeated all that had been said, treating the matter as if it gave him no slight degree of pleasure because the lad was inclined to enter the service. “I’ll answer for it he shall know how to handle a surf-boat ’twixt now and next summer,” Sam Hardy said decidedly. “That boy has got sand, an’ a good deal of it, else he’d never worked in as he has here.” “If his mind is set on such a life, I’m another as will help the little whifflet along,” Joe Cushing added with a laugh, and although no lengthy discussion was indulged in at the time, all the crew appeared to consider it as settled that Benny should be instructed in the duties of life-saving. It is not to be supposed that the boy worked every moment of daylight. After the dishes used at dinner had been washed, the cook insisted that he go out of doors with Fluff, and the pine grove was his favorite playground. Here, despite the cold weather, he roamed to and fro while the dog chased imaginary squirrels and his own shadow, until the frosty air drove both inside the station again. It was while he was enjoying his “outing” that the bodies lately recovered from the _Amazonia_ were removed by the coroner, and Benny asked no questions concerning them. There was in his mind the fear that by speaking of the wreck, when it would be impossible to control his sorrow, he might displease those who were so kind, and all this he kept a secret from every one save Fluff. When he was alone with the dog, however, and the moaning and roaring of the surf told of what had been done on that forbidding coast, he poured out all his heart to Fluff, and those who had gone into the Unknown from the decks of the _Amazonia_ had at least one sincere mourner. Each evening Benny accompanied one or the other of the men on patrol duty, and appeared to take the liveliest interest at all times in watching for signs of some craft in distress. At every convenient opportunity during the day he visited the lookout on the bluff, and when not otherwise engaged pored over the regulations of the service until, as Joe Cushing said, he believed the lad “could come near to repeating every word in the book.”