hur Pendrean found him several days later, when,
seeing, to his great grief, that the lamps were unlit, he put out to
learn the cause in a little boat manned by Owen and one or two of his
friends. How Owen and the others failed to effect a landing on the
rock, and how the brave young clergyman made a bold leap, springing
safely upon a projecting ledge of the Longships, is all thrillingly told
in the chapter headed 'A Hazardous Voyage and a Bold Leap.'

Perhaps the most surprising part of the story is the bravery of Mary
Tresilian, Philip's little sister, who, although only a child, when she
sees that no man can be found to undertake the dangerous and difficult
work of keeping the lamps lit on the Longships, begs her father most
earnestly to himself undertake the task, and permit her to accompany
him. At first he would not hear of it, neither would Arthur Pendrean;
but the child pleaded so earnestly and fearlessly that, in the end, no
one else coming forward to undertake the duty, they yielded to her
prayers. And so we find the light burning again in the lighthouse,
thanks to the courage and unselfishness of a brave little girl.

'Trust me, I will be a match for them, somehow or other,' said Nichols,
when he knew who the new lighthouse-keepers were. 'I have an old grudge
against that Tresilian, and I mean to pay him out. As to that parson,
you all know what I think of him.'

'Well, John, there's many a chap here will be glad enough to help you,'
said Pollard.

A very exciting chapter is that entitled 'A New Conspiracy,' which tells
how Owen, coming ashore with some fish, was waylaid by a ruthless gang
of wreckers and smugglers, who tied him up as a prisoner, and would have
left him to starve had it not been for one of them with a little more
heart than the rest, who cut the cords that bound his wrists, seeing
there was no chance of his escape from the cavern into which they thrust
him, bolting and barring the gate that closed it. A more wretched
dungeon could scarcely be imagined. Dark even in brilliant noon-day,
damp and dripping with slimy sea-weed, the ground full of pools of
stagnant sea water, the air so chilly that it seemed to freeze one to
the very bones, such was the place to which these cowardly enemies
consigned the unfortunate man. And he? His thoughts were of his little
child. Truly his troubles were great; his wife was dead, his son torn
from him, and now his daughter, his only child, doomed, as he thoug