xcitement?" his father asked, speaking for the rest of the
family. "Cool down a bit, my boy, and tell us all about it."

"I've--I've just got a letter from the Captain Commandant," replied
Eric, fairly stuttering in his haste to tell the good news, "and he says
I can enlist in one of the lake stations until the close of navigation.
I'll get some real practical training that way, he says, and then I can
take up prep. work for the Academy all winter."

In view of the fact that there had been considerable correspondence
between the ruling head of the Coast Guard and Mr. Swift, the old
inspector was less surprised than the boy expected. Not for the world
would the lad's father have let him think that there had been any
consultation about this plan. He wanted the boy to have the sense of
being "on his own"!

"I remember now," he said, "you said something about writing along that
line a couple of weeks ago."

"I did write, Father, I did want so awfully to get a chance. But I
hardly believed that they'd actually let me do it."

"I don't see why they wouldn't. After all you told me about your
swimming, they ought to have made a special bid for you," he added
smiling.

"You don't mind my going, do you?"

"I'm perfectly willing, my boy," his father said. "I'm sufficiently on
to your curves, Eric, to know that it isn't much use trying to pin you
down to books while there are a few weeks of summer left. You'll be out
of mischief at a Coast Guard station, that's one sure thing. I think
I'll take you out to meet old Icchia, the veteran of the Lakes. He holds
the record for one of the most sensational rescues in the history of the
service. I've often heard your Uncle Jim tell the story, but I won't
spoil the yarn for you by telling it myself, I'll let Icchia do that."

"When can we go to see him, Father?"

The old inspector smiled at his son's enthusiasm.

"It happens that I've got to start off on an inspection trip to-morrow,
which will take me away for a week or so," he answered, "so, if you have
no other plans, we might go to-day."

"I'll get ready now!" cried Eric, jumping up from the table.

"You'll do nothing of the kind," his father said rebukingly, while his
mother smiled at the boy's impetuosity, "we won't go until after lunch,
that is--if you can wait so long!"

"All right, but isn't it bully!" and, unable to contain himself, Eric
launched into a panegyric of the Life-Saving Service, most of the
history of wh