It would be well nigh impossible to set down all that Uncle Zenas said or did while he waited, unmindful of the falling snow or flying spray, for the coming of his comrades. Never for an instant was he silent or motionless, and it is extremely doubtful if he was aware of what he said or did; his joy was so intense as to have become a form of delirium. Sidney, on the contrary, neither moved nor spoke during that time of waiting; but with pallid face, and lips compressed until the blood was driven from them entirely, he watched eagerly and fearfully the approach of the dory. The little craft was laboring fearfully in the heavy sea, even though the wind helped her along, and the watchers could have some dim idea of what a battle the two keepers must have had when advancing in the very teeth of the gale, by the labor which was required now, when the most difficult portion of the task was virtually at an end. Then came the moment when, having run across the southerly end of the ledge, the dory was headed for the western shore and the two watchers ran into the water waist-deep in order to lend a hand. Save for the incoherent cries of Uncle Zenas, no word was spoken until the bow of the little boat had been hauled up on the rocks, and Captain Eph leaped ashore. His clothing was covered with ice; his hair weighted with snow, and his face so disguised by the mask of frost that even Uncle Zenas might have failed to recognize him under other circumstances; but he lifted Sidney in his arms, as if it was the lad instead of himself who had performed the bravest of brave deeds, and, kissing him again and again, said in a half-whisper: "Thank God that I've got your face next to mine once more!" "He has been good to let you come back to me," Sidney said reverentially, and the greetings were at an end. "Bear a hand, Uncle Zenas, an' help get these poor fellows into the tower. Two of 'em are well nigh dead, an' the others ain't much better, though I reckon the work at the oars has done 'em a world of good." Then, and only then, did Sidney understand that the keepers had rescued four sailors, two of whom were huddled in the bottom of the dory as if life had already departed. It was as if Uncle Zenas had the strength of half a dozen men. He lifted one of the unconscious sailors in his big arms, as if handling a baby, and ran across the slippery rocks like a goat, depositing his burden in the kitchen and getting back to the dory before the second sufferer had been taken out. "Leave him to me," the cook said as he raised the sailor in his arms, literally forcing Captain Eph to release his hold. "I'm feelin' so mighty good 'cause you've come back alive that I've got to do somethin' out of the common run, or take the chances of bustin'." Sidney could do nothing more than help Captain Eph and Mr. Peters drag the boat across the rocks to the little boat-house, and when she was properly secured the three entered the kitchen.