side, her step as firm and solid
as his own, her round, strong arms swinging, her little brown eyes
shining with good spirits and vigor, and the pure, clean animal joy of
being alive on that fine cool Western morning. She talked almost
incessantly. She was positively garrulous. She talked about the fine
day that it was, about the queer new forage caps of the soldiers, about
the bare green hills of the Reservation, about the little cemetery they
passed just beyond the limits of the barracks, about a rabbit she saw,
and about the quail they both heard whistling and calling in the
hollows under the bushes.

Condy walked at her side in silence, yet no less happy than she,
smoking his pipe and casting occasional glances at a great ship--a
four-master that was being towed out toward the Golden Gate. At every
moment and at every turn they noted things that interested them, and to
which they called each other's attention.

"Look, Blix!"

"Oh, Condy, look at that!"

They were soon out of the miniature city of the Post, and held on down
through the low reach of tules and sand-dunes that stretch between the
barracks and the old red fort.

"Look, Condy!" said Blix. "What's that building down there on the
shore of the bay--the one with the flagstaff?"

"I think that must be the lifeboat station."

"I wonder if we could go down and visit it. I think it would be good
fun."

"Idea!" exclaimed Condy.

The station was close at hand. To reach it they had but to leave the
crazy board walk that led on toward the fort, and cross a few hundred
yards of sand-dune. Condy opened the gate that broke the line of
evergreen hedge around the little two-story house, and promptly
unchained a veritable pandemonium of dogs.

Inside, the place was not without a certain charm of its own. A brick
wall, bordered with shells, led to the front of the station, which gave
directly upon the bay; a little well-kept lawn opened to right and
left, and six or eight gaily-painted old rowboats were set about, half
filled with loam in which fuchsias, geraniums, and mignonettes were
flowering. A cat or two dozed upon the window-sills in the sun. Upon
a sort of porch overhead, two of the crew paced up and down in a manner
that at once suggested the poop. Here and there was a gleam of highly
polished red copper or brass trimmings. The bay was within two steps
of the front door, while a little further down the beach was the house
where the surf-b