head.

He was utterly exhausted, and it had only been hope and excitement that
had buoyed him up until now.

As he lay there watching the various things that were being done for the
relief of the poor fellows snatched from a watery grave he found his
eyes growing heavy, and occasionally closing in spite of his efforts to
remain awake.

Once he sat up as some men came in bearing another sailor who, alas, had
apparently been dragged out of the sea too late to save the spark of
life; but, upon learning that it was not the one in whose fate he was so
keenly interested, Darry had fallen back again upon his hard pillow.

Soon after things faded from his sight, and he slept the sleep of
weariness, for every muscle in his body was as sore as though it had
been pounded with a club.

It was hours before he awoke.

At first he could not understand just where he was or how he came in
such unfamiliar surroundings; but seeing the kindly face of Abner Peake
bending over, he asked a mute question that the other answered with a
shake of his head.

The captain's body had not as yet come ashore.

CHAPTER III

ABNER PEAKE'S OFFER

Days passed. Darry had entirely given up hope of ever hearing from the
captain, whose body must have been carried out to sea again, as were
several of the crew.

After the shock became less severe, our hero began to take a new
interest in the scene around him, and particularly in connection with
the life-saving station where his new friend Abner was quartered.

The keeper was a grizzled surfman named Frazer, and a man possessed of
some education; he did not awaken the same feelings in the boy as Abner
Peake, but at the same time he was evidently inclined to be friendly in
his own gruff way.

On the third day after the rescue he called Darry to him as he sat
mending a net with which the crew of the station secured enough fish to
serve them for an occasional meal.

"Sit down, lad. I want to talk with you a bit," he said.

Darry dropped on a block close by.

He was still filled with the deepest admiration for these men of the
coast, and his determination to follow their arduous calling when he
grew big enough to take an oar in the surfboat was undiminished.

"Now, tell me about yourself, and where you belong. We are not allowed
to keep any rescued sailors more than a certain time. You notice that
all the others have gone, save the poor chaps lying under those mounds
yonder. Being a boy