"What makes the light blink?" asked Scott. "This revolving screen, sir," answered the keeper. "It is worked by the action of a slowly falling weight, after the principle of a grandfather's clock. We have to wind it every two hours. If that goes wrong we have to grind the lantern round by hand, and a precious stiff job it is." "That's where we would come in handy," observed Baker. "Scouts to the rescue, eh?" "All right, young gentlemen. I'll bear that in mind, and if the apparatus goes wrong while you are on Seal Island we'll signal for a party of you to bear a hand. There'll be stiff arms and aching backs in the morning, I'll warrant." The inspection came to an end at last, and Mr Trematon led his Scouts out into the now dense fog. Upon reaching Polkerwyck, the Scoutmaster went into the post-office, for since he had promised Phillips that he should be the hunter of the party, he had to get the lad a gun licence. "Now you'll be all right, Phillips," exclaimed Mr Trematon. "To-morrow morning you can take my gun and see if you can knock over enough rabbits to provide us with dinner." "There'll be a telegram for you, sir," said the post-mistress, handing the Scoutmaster a buff-coloured envelope. "Came in this afternoon, and Peter Varco telled me as there was no one on t' Island to take it, so I kept it back." Mr Trematon hastily opened the envelope and scanned its contents, then filling in a telegraph form he handed it in and left the shop. "Lads," he explained, "I've had bad news. Circumstances demand that I return to my home at Guildford as soon as possible. Atherton, until I send some one to take charge, you must be Acting Assistant Scoutmaster. I know I can trust you. Here is enough money to carry you on for a few days, and here is the key of the portable locker. If I hurry I may be able to catch the evening train from Wadebridge. Let me know every day how you get on." "We are sorry, sir," said several of the Scouts in chorus. "Thank you, lads," replied the Scoutmaster. "I trust it is not so bad as the telegram leads me to believe. Can you get across to the Island all right in the fog, or shall I ask Varco to pilot you over?" "We'll manage all right, sir," said Atherton confidently. "I have my pocket-compass, and I know the bearings." "Very good; now good-bye, lads; I hope you'll have a decent time in spite of the impending weather." "Good-bye, sir," shouted nearly a score of voices with genuine regret. The next moment Mr Trematon, hurrying up the hill as fast as he could, was lost to sight in the fog, while the "Otters" and the "Wolves" remained on the stone quay of Polkerwyck till the sound of his footsteps faded into a silence broken only by the ground-swell upon the wild and rugged coast. CHAPTER X THE WRECK "KEEP close in our wake, Simpson," cautioned Atherton, as the two boats cleared the end of the stone quay. "Give way, lads; long easy strokes."