sted Darry to the would-be
performer.

"They tell me that, boy; but you see I ain't much of a judge. P'raps in
time I may get on to the racket, that is if the boys don't fire me and
the fiddle out before-hand," replied the surfman, grinning, for his
clumsy hands were really never intended by Nature to handle a violin
bow.

"Would you mind letting me try it? I used to play a little."

At the first sound of that bow crossing the strings, after Darry had
properly tuned the instrument every man sat up and took notice; and as
the boy bent down and lovingly drew the sweetest chords from the violin
that they had ever heard, they actually held their breath.

After that he was kept busy; indeed they would hardly let him have any
rest, and that was why those rough men looked forward eagerly to the
expected coming of Abner Peake's new boy.

It seemed as though he must know everything there was, and the music
would turn from riotous ragtime to the most tender chords, capable of
drawing tears from those eyes so unused to weeping.

It was a rare treat to Darry, too, for he dearly loved music, and the
absence of his fiddle had made a gap in his life.

The month was now passing, and closer drew the stormy period when, with
the advent of grim November, the duties of the beach patrol naturally
grow more and more laborious, since there are greater possibilities of
wrecks, with the strong winds and the fogs that bewilder mariners, and
allow them to run upon the reefs when they believe they are scores of
miles away from the danger zone.

The boom of guns could now be heard all day, and frequently Darry saw
Northern sportsmen in the village; though as a rule they kept on board
their yachts or else stayed at the various private clubs up or down the
sound.

Jim Dilks and his gang still lay low. They awaited a favorable
opportunity to carry out some evil scheme, whereby the boy they had come
to fear, as well as hate, might be injured.

Well, they knew that he made daily trips into the marsh, and it would
seem that they might find the chance they craved at such times; but
there was one thing to deter them, and this was the fact that Darry
never went to examine his traps without carrying that steady-shooting
old shotgun.

The burnt child dreads the fire, and Jim had hardly ceased to rub his
injured parts, so that the possibility of getting a second dose was not
at all alluring in his eyes.

He was a good waiter, and he felt that s