ched the village. Too late. I say, Lloyd,"
clapping his hands to keep warm, "come home. This is nonsense. I am
going."

Now Jem was older than Lloyd, and though Lloyd was always captain of
the two, still he was half frozen, and very willing to be tempted.

"_Do_ you think it's nonsense?" pushing the logs with his foot,
doubtfully.

"Of course I do. I'm going."

"Don't go yet, Jem," Lloyd begged. It was horribly lonely here in the
cold, and dark, and storm.

"I'll wait while I count ten," standing first on one leg and then the
other.

Lloyd looked out to sea. Nothing there but blackness and the dreadful,
incessant moaning. The fire was nearly out. What was the use of working
all night for people who were away out on their homeward journey,
knowing and caring nothing for him? Up at the cottage his mother had a
nice fire for him; a warm bed.

He began kicking the embers apart. "It does seem like folly," he said.

But on the other hand, what if the schooner were there still, with
nothing but his fire to guide her to safety? There was a chance of
that; the merest chance. But there was one.

"I'll stay, Jem. You can go home."

Jem hesitated a moment, and then started at a quick run for home. His
steps sounded very dreary, beating along the shore.

Lloyd went to work to collect more wood. He had to grope among the icy
mass along shore to find his way. The tide was rising and the frozen
spray half blinded him. Besides, he was not warmly clothed.

Now I am not going to tell you a painful story, so I will not dwell on
this long night; the longest in Lloyd Wells' life, perhaps, though he
lived to be an old man.

No sound came to him from the sea to show that the schooner was there
or that his work was of use. But still he did not once give it up.

All night he groped and tugged at the scattered bits of wood, piled
them up, keeping himself in motion, not daring to close his eyes,
knowing that if he did he would never waken. All night long.

But at last he stumbled and sank, and did not rise again. The cold and
weariness were too much for the lad, if his heart was that of a man.

As he fell he heard a grating sound on the beach--voices--shouts. Was
it the schooner? Had he saved them?

* * * * *

He woke in his mother's bed. She was leaning over him, crying, laughing
at once. There was a man beside her with his arm about her waist,
stooping over Lloyd, patting his pale l