"She'll be swamped before they can get around the ledge!" the lad cried in an agony of terror. "Oh, why did they go?" "I ain't afraid but they'll keep her right side up for a spell, Sonny; but it's when they get anywhere near the wreck that the most dangerous part of the business will come in. Wouldn't you feel better if we went into the lantern? I don't reckon we can see any more there; but it'll seem as if we could." For reply Sidney ran up the narrow staircase, Uncle Zenas following more rapidly than one would have supposed he could have moved, and when the two were in the lantern the shadowy forms of the keepers could be seen as they toiled at the oars in what seemed like a vain effort. In a very few seconds the snow hid them completely from view, but yet the watchers stood with their faces pressed against the glass, picturing in their minds the dory and her brave crew as they saw them last. "If--if--if nothing happens to them, how long before they ought to be back?" Sidney asked in a choking voice, and Uncle Zenas replied in tones hardly more steady: "That is what we can't make any guess at, lad. It's certain they couldn't pull out to the wreck, against this wind, in less than an hour, an' if anything can be done toward savin' the crew, half a day may be none too long." Sidney strove in vain to distinguish anything through the snow wreaths; but yet he remained at the window until Uncle Zenas, straightening himself up as if with an effort, said slowly: "It's no good to stay here when nothin' can be seen but the snow; I must be doin' somethin', or nobody knows what will happen to me. We'll go down in the kitchen, where I can work on your coat." "I want to get the first glimpse of them when they come back," Sidney said, reluctantly following the old man. "Then don't begin to look for 'em till later in the day; it'll make you crazy to watch the snow-flakes while they're whirlin' 'round the tower at sich a rate." Once in the kitchen Uncle Zenas took up his work, sewing feverishly, and keeping his eyes fixed on the garment as if he was afraid to look out of doors, while Sidney walked nervously from one window to another in silence. When it seemed to the lad as if a full day had passed, the old man asked in a half-whisper: "Do you reckon we'd better get dinner, Sonny?" "I couldn't swallow a mouthful. It seems as if I'd never want any more to eat." "That's about the way I'm feelin', Sonny, an' perhaps it won't do any good to force ourselves. I'll make a big lot of coffee, so we'll have plenty of hot drink for Cap'n Eph an' Sammy when they get back. I reckon they'll be more'n half frozen." "I only wish I knew they _would_ come back!" Sidney said as if to himself, and Uncle Zenas cried with more of hopefulness in his tone than he had indulged in since his comrades went out: