ad on slippery-soled shoes instead of sneakers, which we usually
wear. I thought of calling after him to be careful, but he never was
a falling-down sort of person, even as a baby. I hoped, too, that he
would have sense enough to loop up that sash or take it off
entirely.

I sat on the Wecanicut side and stared at the shore and the water
till my eyes ached. More and more wind was blowing all the time,
straight from Wecanicut. It blew so hard in my face that my eyes
watered and I couldn't be sure whether or not I did see boats. In
books, people think of all their past sins when they're in perilous
positions, but all I could think of was that a boat _must_ come
before dark. I did think of how much it all was my fault, but that
was not far enough in the past to count. Presently Jerry came back
and said that if we moved a little toward each other we could see
just as much of the bay and consult at the same time. So we did, and
sat down not very far apart. _I_ said that I supposed we ought to
change off with Greg, because it was horrid lonely up there, but
Jerry said:

"Nonsense; he likes to be alone. He's probably pretending he's the
King of the Cannibal Isle, or something, and not worrying a bit."

"I was looking us up in the dictionary the other day," I said,
trying to forget the Sea Monster for a minute, "and _Gregory_ means
'watchful, vigilant'."

"Now's the first time he's ever lived up to his name, then," said
Jerry. "Keep looking, Chris, and don't moon about."

We sat there for quite a long time without saying anything, and the
last little golden sliver of sun disappeared behind the point, and
the lighthouse on the Headland came out suddenly, though it was
still quite light, and began to wink--two long flashes and two short
ones.

"Isn't it queer," Jerry said, "to think that people are there and we
can't possibly tell them."

"It's worse than queer," I said.

Then we were still again, till presently Jerry said:

"Do you hear that funny noise, Chris?"

I had been listening to it just then, and said "Yes" and that I
supposed it was the horrid noise the water made around on the other
side. For quite a time we didn't hear it, and then Jerry said:

"There it is again! The water must suck into those echoey hollows.
It sounds almost like a person groaning."

"Don't!" I said.

All at once he turned toward me and said in a queer, quick voice:

"Do you suppose it could possibly be Greg?"

I can't describe