oat was kept, and the long runway leading down from it
to the water. Condy rapped loudly at the front door. It was opened by
Captain Jack.

Captain Jack, and no other; only now he wore a blue sweater and a
leather-visored cap, with the letters U. S. L. B. S. around the band.

Not an instant was given them for preparation. The thing had happened
with the abruptness of a transformation scene at a theatre. Condy's
knock had evoked a situation. Speech was stricken from their mouths.
For a moment they were bereft even of action, and stood there on the
threshold, staring open-mouthed and open-eyed at the sudden
reappearance of their "matrimonial object." Condy was literally dumb;
in the end it was Blix who tided them over the crisis.

"We were just going by--just taking a walk," she explained, "and we
thought we'd like to see the station. Is it all right? Can we look
around?"

"Why, of course," assented the Captain with great cordiality. "Come
right in. This is visitors' day. You just happened to hit it--only
it's mighty few visitors we ever have," he added.

While Condy was registering for himself and Blix, they managed to
exchange a lightning glance. It was evident the Captain did not
recognize them. The situation readjusted itself, even promised to be
of extraordinary interest. And for that matter it made little
difference whether the captain remembered them or not.

"No, we don't get many visitors," the Captain went on, as he led them
out of the station and down the small gravel walk to the house where
the surf-boat was kept. "This is a quiet station. People don't fetch
out this way very often, and we're not called out very often, either.
We're an inside post, you see, and usually we don't get a call unless
the sea's so high that the Cliff House station can't launch their boat.
So, you see, we don't go out much, but when we DO, it means business
with a great big B. Now, this here, you see," continued the Captain,
rolling back the sliding doors of the house, "is the surf-boat. By the
way, let's see; I ain't just caught your names yet."

"Well, my name's Rivers," said Condy, "and this is Miss Bessemer.
We're both from the city."

"Happy to know you, sir; happy to know you, miss," he returned, pulling
off his cap. "My name's Hoskins, but you can just call me Captain
Jack. I'm so used to it that I don't kind of answer to the other.
Well, now, Miss Bessemer, this here's the surf-boat; she's
self-rig