“That will come in good time, lad, never fear,” Keeper Downey said cheerily; “but you’ll be called upon to wait patiently until warmer weather is here. In the meantime we’ve something important on hand to-morrow.” Benny looked at him questioningly, and the keeper asked: “Have you forgotten that the uniform should be done by this time, and to-morrow’s my day for going into the city?” “I didn’t forget it, sir.” “Then why hadn’t you spoken about it?” Joe Cushing asked impatiently. “I was afraid perhaps Mr. Downey had changed his mind about going to the city, and besides I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t wait.” “There’s little fear of your being too forward, my lad,” Sam Hardy said with a hearty laugh. “We must see to it that you’re called regularly to meals, or you’ll get the idea that perhaps we’d like it better if you missed one or two. The uniform is to be here to-morrow, an’ if anything had prevented the keeper from going to town, I’d pulled in and back myself, for I’m mighty anxious to see you togged out in proper fashion, even if you do feel so moderate about it.” “Of course I want the uniform,” Benny added quickly; “but I’d rather wait a week than have any of the crew put themselves out to get it.” Then the lad, holding the dog affectionately in his arms, ascended the stairs to the sleeping quarters, and when he had disappeared from view, Sam Hardy said emphatically: “Accordin’ to my way of thinkin’, it’s seldom you run across so good a lad as No. 8.” “You’re right there,” Mr. Downey added. “All that troubles me in the matter is the fear that we may not be doing quite our duty by the boy in keeping him here with us, when he should be at school.” “Don’t let that fret you; he’ll learn enough wherever he is, an’ it’s a heap of satisfaction to the little shaver when he believes he’s paying his own way,” Joe Cushing said quickly, and Dick Sawyer cried emphatically: “If he don’t do all of that, then I’d like to see the boy, or man either for that matter, who does!” CHAPTER XIV. THE WRECKERS. The crew at the station were, even under ordinary circumstances, out of bed early in the morning; but since the wreckers had been at work on the stranded steamer there was little possibility any one, except a very deaf person, could sleep after the first signs of day appeared in the sky. The wrecking tugs, when they did not return to the city at nightfall, anchored off the cove near the station, and their whistles were sounded vigorously fully half an hour before daybreak, in order that the men might be ready for work as soon as there was sufficient light. As Sam Hardy said, “it came pretty rough on a fellow who’d been patrolling the coast till midnight, to be wakened at four o’clock,” but grumbling on the part of the life savers effected no change in the situation, and as a rule breakfast had been eaten before the man whose tour of duty ended only at daylight, had returned to the station.