e was seated
reading at a small desk. Close above him was the blazing series of
lights, which revolved slowly and steadily by means of machinery,
moved by a heavy weight. A small bell was struck slowly but regularly
by the same machinery, in token that all was going on well. If that
bell had ceased to sound, Forsyth would at once have leaped up to
ascertain what was wrong with the lights. So long as it continued to
ring he knew that all was well, and that he might continue his
studies peacefully--not quietly, however, for, besides the rush of
wind against the thick plate glass of the lantern, there was the
never-ceasing roar of the ventilator, in which the heated air from
within and the cold air from without met and kept up a terrific war.
Keepers get used to that sound, however, and do not mind it.

Each keeper's duty was to watch for three successive hours in the
lantern.

Not less familiar were the faces of the occupants of the kitchen. To
this apartment Ruby ascended without anyone hearing him approach, for
one of the windows was open, and the roar of the storm effectually
drowned his light footfall. On reaching the floor immediately below
the kitchen he heard the tones of a violin, and when his head emerged
through the manhole of the kitchen floor, he paused and listened with
deep interest, for the air was familiar.

Peeping round the corner of the oaken partition that separated the
manhole from the apartment, he beheld a sight which filled his heart
with gladness, for there, seated on a camp stool, with his back
leaning against the dresser, his face lighted up by the blaze of a
splendid fire, which burned in a most comfortable-looking kitchen
range, and his hands drawing forth most pathetic music from a violin,
sat his old friend Joe Dumsby, while opposite to him on a similar
camp stool, with his arm resting on a small table, and a familiar
black pipe in his mouth, sat that worthy son of Vulcan, Jamie Dove.

The little apartment glowed with ruddy light, and to Ruby, who had
just escaped from a scene of such drear and dismal aspect, it
appeared, what it really was, a place of the most luxurious comfort.

Dove was keeping time to the music with little puffs of smoke, and
Joe was in the middle of a prolonged shake, when Ruby passed through
the doorway and stood before them.

Dove's eyes opened to their widest, and his jaw dropt, so did his
pipe, and the music ceased abruptly, while the faces of both men grew