Many times did he unconsciously turn aside from the direct course, and when the whistle sounded again he was forced to make a detour in this direction or that, at the cost of many additional steps. Then again it was as if the heavy booming came from all sides, and save for the fact that he remained motionless until the force of the wind lessened, he might have lost his way completely. Although the air was bitterly cold Benny was hardly aware of the fact; the severe labor of making his way through the drifts and against the blasts warmed his body until he perspired even at the same time that his hands and face were chilled by the frost. When he came upon the light of the station, suddenly, as it were, it appeared to him as if a full hour must have been spent in the journey, and now that the task was accomplished it seemed impossible he could have continued on five minutes longer. There was no need for him to explain why he had returned alone. The waiting crew, fearing news of disaster, understood at once that Sam Hardy would not have sent the boy back unless he had grave reasons for doing so, and before Benny could speak Dick Sawyer cried: “What have you seen, lad?” Benny understood that his report should be made to the keeper, and, therefore, instead of answering Sawyer’s question, he turned to Mr. Downey, describing what Hardy had seen. “Off Skinner’s Point, eh?” Downey said as he took from the pegs where it was hanging, his suit of oiled clothing. “How far away?” “Mr. Hardy said about a mile; but I didn’t see any sign of a vessel, except when the little light showed itself.” “You’ll need to go on patrol more than once, lad,” Joe Cushing said with a laugh, “before you’ll make much of a fist at seeing a craft a mile away on such a night as this.” “I’ll get so I can in time, if you allow me to go out on patrol,” Benny replied confidently, and then, turning to the keeper, he added, “Mr. Hardy said I wasn’t to come back; but if there’s any message you’d like sent him, sir, I’m certain I can carry it.” “Would you be willing to go through this storm from here to Skinner’s Point when there was no real need of it?” “If there was a chance I might be of service, I’d be glad to, sir, and, besides, such work as that would be helping me along in learning a surfman’s duties.” “It seems a cruel thing to do,” Downey said half to himself; “but I’ve a mind to let you go with us.” “If you only would, sir!” “What about leavin’ Fluff C. Foster alone? All hands of us, except the cook, must go.” “Fluff will behave himself, I’m certain, for he doesn’t make any trouble when I tell him he must stay alone.” “Thaw yourself a bit by the fire while we’re getting the beach-wagon out, and then you shall do your share of the work, unless it so chances we’re forced to launch the boat.” During this time every member of the crew had been preparing for the arduous labor before him, and the men were in readiness when Keeper Downey led the way toward the door.