"I never thought he could hear me, else I wouldn't have spoken so loud, for he's terrible kind of fretty since his wounds are beginnin' to heal in good shape," and he added in a louder tone to the second assistant, "I reckon I can make talk to Sonny, if I want'er, without your mixin' your tongue in, eh?" "I'll mix in jest as often as you tell 'bout bein' shoved up there, when you know Sammy an' I were both set against it!" and Uncle Zenas' tone was what might truthfully be called "vinegary." "Hello down there!" Mr. Peters called from the lantern, and, running to the foot of the stairs, Sidney answered the hail. "Tell Cap'n Eph there's a dory comin' in from the east'ard. As nigh as I can make out, there are two men aboard, but they don't seem to have her in hand very well." "A dory from the east'ard," the old keeper repeated, he having heard the first assistant's report. "There's likely to have been trouble out that way, Sonny, for the most venturesome fishermen who ever lived wouldn't be abroad in this blow unless somethin' had gone wrong. Tell Sammy to keep his eye on 'em." Sidney repeated the instructions as Captain Eph had given them, and a smile overspread his face as he heard Mr. Peters mutter irritably: "Keep my eye on 'em? I'd like to know what else I can do? Any idjut would have sense enough for that!" "What's he sayin'?" the keeper asked sharply. "Nothing more than talking to himself, I guess," Sidney replied, and Captain Eph retorted: "That's a mighty bad habit Sammy has got. You can't rightfully say that he's makin' back talk; but he chews over a lot of words that kind'er riles a man, 'specially when he hasn't really got a right to find fault. Go up an' see what you can make out, Sonny." Sidney obeyed promptly, although feeling quite confident that he could not hope to learn anything more than Mr. Peters had already reported. "There's trouble of some kind out yonder," the first assistant said when he handed the glasses to the lad, "an' the worst of it is, that with both Cap'n Eph an' Uncle Zenas under the weather, we've got to sit still an' see those poor fellows drift past us while we're suckin' our thumbs." Sidney took the glasses, and after Mr. Peters had pointed out the direction in which he should look, it was possible to see now and then, as she rose on the crest of a wave, a dory in which was a mass of something which might be human beings. "Can you see 'em?" Mr. Peters asked impatiently, after Sidney had gazed in silence several moments. "Yes; but I'm trying to make out why you should think that dark stuff may be men." "Because the craft must have belonged to a fisherman, Sonny, an' they don't very often let their boats go adrift. Then agin, what else could be in her but men?" The argument was not convincing to the lad; but since there was nothing he could say against it, he returned to make his report to the keeper.