“Of course I could, and I’ll be mighty glad of the chance to try. What shall I tell the keeper?” “I am not so certain that I’ve got any right to let you take the chances, for in this storm a lad who is green at the business can easily get bewildered.” “_I_ shan’t,” Benny replied quickly. “Please let me go, Mr. Hardy, for it’ll show that I can be of some little help in the work, and perhaps the men will think I may be a surfman in time, even if I am small.” “You shall make the venture, my boy. Do you hear that whistle now and then?” “I have been hearing it for some time, sir. There must be a steamer near by.” “Why, bless your soul, Benny, haven’t you found out by this time that there’s a steam fog-horn near the lighthouse. I counted on their setting it going when this smother first gave signs of coming.” Benny remembered now that the cook had pointed out to him a small brick building painted white, which had at one side a curiously shaped funnel, and told him this last was the fog-horn; but other matters were occupying his mind at the time, and he gave little heed to the information. “Keep straight on after that sound,” Sam said as he saw to it that Benny’s coat was closely buttoned. “Don’t try to travel too fast, for there’s plenty of time. Even if that craft comes to grief, she won’t strike inside of an hour. When you get to the station there’s nothing to be done save tell the keeper what we’ve seen, and that the schooner lays off Skinner’s Point.” “Shall I come back, sir?” “Come back through this storm, Benny? Why, you’re crazy! There’s such a thing as learning a surfman’s duties; but attempting to find me out here in this swirl ain’t one of ’em. Even if I was fool enough to say you might try it, the rest of the crew would take good care you didn’t get outside the station again. Now be off, lad, and keep your wits well about you. Remember that you’ll bring up nearabout the building if you follow the sound of the whistle.” [Illustration] Benny was proud indeed as he began what unquestionably was, for a person unfamiliar with the locality, a perilous journey. There was in his mind the knowledge that he was taking some slight part in the work of life-saving, and that by his making this venture Sam Hardy could remain on duty where he might possibly be of great assistance to those who were in danger. To push on alone over the rocks, through drifts of snow, beaten and buffeted by the wind, and half blinded by the icy particles, was entirely different from following behind Sam. Previously he had been partially sheltered by the surfman’s body; but now it was necessary to breast the storm alone, and there were many times when he found it literally impossible to proceed, for the wind came in spiteful gusts that nearly threw him from his feet.