reach Lost Brig Island."

"Lost Brig Island," echoed Jess in an alarmed tone; "is this an island?"

"If the geography books still define an island as a body of land
surrounded by water, it is," rejoined the man, with a smile.

"Are we far from Cape Charles?" asked Peggy, eagerly.

"Why, no. Not more than six miles to the north. But what under ther sun
air you young folks in your fine clothes a-doin' out here?"

Peggy hastily explained, and the man said that he had seen some reference
to the coming contests in a stray paper the light-keepers had given him
the last time he passed the lighthouse in a small boat he kept.

"Is the island inhabited?" inquired Jimsy; "we'd like to get something to
eat. If there's a hotel or----."

The man of the island burst into a laugh. Not a rough guffaw, but a laugh
of genuine amusement.

"I guess I'm the only hotel keeper on the island," he said, "and my guests
is sea gulls and once in a while a turtle. But if you don't mind eating
some fish and potatoes, you're welcome to what I have."

"I'm sure that's awfully good of you," said Peggy, warmly, "and we love
fish."

"Well, come on in and sit down. This fog won't last forever. I was
chopping wood to get dinner when I heard you coming over the sands. I
don't often have visitors so you'll have to rough it."

So saying, the strange, lone island dweller led them into his hut. It was
rough inside but scrupulously clean. Some attempts had been made to
beautify it by hanging up on the walls shells and curiosities of the
beach. Here and there, too, were panels of rare woods, which the
island-dweller explained had come from the cabins of wrecked ships. A big
cat, his only companion, lay beside the fire and blinked at the visitors,
as if they were an everyday occurrence.

Chairs, fashioned out of barrels and boxes, stood about, some of them
cushioned after a fashion, with sacking stuffed with dried sea weed.

"Sit down," said their host hospitably, "ain't much to boast of in the way
of furniture, but it's the best I can do. Can't expect to find a Waldorf
Hotel on Lost Brig Island."

"You have been in New York, then?" exclaimed Peggy, struck by the
reference.

The man's face underwent a transformation.

"Once, many years ago," he said, "but I never like to talk about it."

"Why not?" blundered the tactless Jimsy.

"Because a wrong--a very great wrong--was done to me there," said the man
slowly.

Without another word he rose and