ive times worse than this afternoon, an' I guess it looked
dangerous enough to a landsman to be a bit scarin'. One of the men went
up with him, holdin' on to him, so he wouldn't get frightened an' drop,
an' in a minute or two he was swung in to the landin'-place.

"There was one of our fellows here who was as funny as a goat, an' we
had an awful time to keep him from raggin' Cookie. But we knew that
Breuger was goin' to fix our grub for quite a spell and keepin' him in a
good humor was a wise move. Anyway, when you're goin' to live in
quarters as small as a lighthouse, you can't afford to have any
quarrelin'. A funny man's all right, but he needs lots of room.

"So, instead of hazin' him for showin' the white feather so often, I
praised Cookie for having made so brave a landin' on such an awful day.
Quick as a wink, his manner changed. He just strutted. He slapped
himself on the chest an' boasted of his line of warlike
ancestors--seemed to go back to somewhere about the time of Adam. It
never once struck him that every one else on the rock had had to make a
landin' there, too. He gave himself the airs of bein' the sole hero on
Tillamook. There were days when this was a bit tryin', but we forgave
him. He could cook. Shades of a sea-gull! How he could cook! We used to
threaten to put an extra padlock on the lens, lest he should try to
fricassee it!"

"Easy there!" protested Eric.

"Well," said the other, "you know the big Arctic gull they call the
Burgomaster?"

"Yes, I've seen it in winter once or twice."

"Breuger could cook that oily bird so's it would taste like a pet squab.
He used to take a pride in it, too, an' he liked best the men who ate
most. Now I was real popular with Cookie. Those were the days for eats!"
and the light-keeper sighed regretfully.

"How long did he stay?" queried the boy.

"That's just the point," the other answered. "He never went back."

"Never?"

"Not alive," responded the light-keeper. "He'd had one experience of
landin' an' he'd never risk another. He stayed on Tillamook for over
eighteen years, never leavin' it, even for a day. An' he died here."

"Well," the boy commented, "this is where I'm going to differ from
Cookie, for there's Father coming down." He looked over the edge. "It
would make a great dive," he said, "if it weren't for the surf."

"It'd be your last," was the response. "Nobody could get out alive from
that poundin'. More'n one good man's been drowned there.