"We're bound to think they'll come, Sonny. There's no sense in dwellin' on the dark side of things, an' we've _got_ to keep our spirits up. You shall help me build a roarin' fire, for it ain't any ways certain we won't have half-drownded strangers here before a great while." It was a positive relief to have something in the nature of work to do, and Sidney obeyed eagerly, bringing coal from the odd cellar, shaking the ashes from the grate, and brushing up the dust which had fallen to the floor. When he went back to the window again it seemed as if he could see a dark shadow through the snow to the southward of the ledge, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that he could prevent himself from crying aloud. "I won't make a fool of myself by exciting Uncle Zenas about nothing," he said to himself, and then he was positive the shadow rose and sank, as if on the waves. "I believe I can see something," he said softly, trying hard to repress any evidence of great joy. "There's a shadow out on the ocean, and--" "It's our dory, Sonny, it's our dory!" Uncle Zenas cried loudly, suddenly lifting the lad in his big arms and kissing him again and again. "Yonder's a boat, sure enough, an' it _must_ be ours!" "But if she should be--" Sidney could not finish the sentence, and the old man cried excitedly as he ran to and fro: "But she won't be, Sonny. That craft is held straight on a course, else she'd be wabblin' 'round. Get somethin' on--Here, this coat is far enough along in the makin'. Get into it quick, an' we'll go out to bear a hand!" "But what can we do?" Sidney cried, now showing quite as much excitement as did Uncle Zenas. "How are we to bear a hand?" "They'll need some one to help 'em make a landin', whether there are passengers aboard or not! Be lively, Sonny, an' thank God that He has let Cap'n Eph an' Sammy come back to us!" Neither Uncle Zenas nor Sidney were very well protected from the cold when they clambered down the iron ladder to the rocks; but it is safe to say that neither of them could have told whether he was warm or cold, wet or dry, as they stood on the ledge gazing with painful intentness at that dark line behind the snow which both believed to be the boat they were so anxious to see. Then, slowly, the shadow took on form, until it was possible to trace the outlines of the dory, and an instant later a great cry of triumph went up from both. There were four men at the oars instead of two, and a heap of something in the stern-sheets that might well be a human being. "Just think of it!" Uncle Zenas cried, dancing to and fro over the icy rocks more like an insane person than a staid, elderly cook and second assistant of a first-order light. "Them two old idjuts have gone out when a man had no business even to walk the length of this 'ere ledge, an' saved sailors as were drownin'! There ain't another couple on the whole coast, never mind how young they may be, who'd dared to put off in this gale."