g along the causeway that stretched across the salt marshes leading past his own home to the inner beach beyond. As he drove slowly through his own gate, so

ce, through which streamed the glow of a lamp, its lig

welcome and raced

g! Down, Rex! Been

ew rein, and with eager springs tried to reach his h

-stepped quickly into his office, and turning up the lamp, threw himself into a chair at his desk. The sorrel made no atte

d also be found a bust of the young Augustus; one or two lithographs of Heidelberg, where he had studied; and some line engravings in black frames-one a view of Oxford with the Thames wandering by, another a portrait of the Duke of Wellington, and still another of Nell Gwynn. Scattered about the room were easy-chairs and small tables piled high with books, a copy of Tacitus and an early edition of Milt

flower, or ornament-a touch that his mother, for reasons of her

hin, sure hands which could guide a knife within a hair's breadth of instant death-and leaning forward, with an indrawn sigh examined some letters lyin

se, his nose resting on the doctor's knee. Doctor John laid his hand on the dog's head and s

er, Rex, and we are goin

her anxiety over Lucy; he looked again into the deep, trusting eyes that gazed into his as she appealed to him for assistance; he caught once more the poise of the head as she listened to his account of litt

she had at last begun to depend upon him-a dependence which, wit

when, with pipe in mouth, he could sit alone by his fire and build castles in the coals, every rosy mountain-top aglow with t

his hand, he started to fill the bowl, when a scrap of paper covered with a scrawl

himself. "I wonder how l

e first time that he had seen his master's face grow suddenly serious as he

the winding stairs that led to the sleeping rooms above-the dog c

is office when she was at home and awak

e ans

ou are, Rex-I will be back some time before daylight," and throw

he was not to pass, and looked wistfully after the doctor. His loneliness was to continue, an

sorry, but it can't be helped," and springing into the gig, he walked the mare clear of the gravel beyond the gate, so as

ather, along the sand-dunes, and down a steep grade to the shore. The tide was making flood, and the crawling surf spent itself in long shelving reaches of foam. These so packed the s

ime how like a crouching woman it appeared, with its hipped roof hunched up like a shoulder close propped against the dune and its overhanging eaves but a drap

a gun from some stranded vessel, throw wide its door and with a wild cheer whirl the life-boat housed beneath its roof into the boi

ood by the custodian, who was the only man to receive pay from the Government. If he lived near by he kept the key; if not, the nearest fisherman held it. Fogarty, the father of the sick child, and whose cabin was within gunshot of this house, kept the key this year. No oth

fisherman, to the door. He was still wearing his hip-boots and sou'wester-he was just in from the surf-and stood out

er the mare. "Wife's nigh crazy. Tod's fightin' for all he's worth, but

ing and her eyelids were still wet and her cheeks swollen. The light of the ship's lantern fastened to the wall fell upon a crib in the corner, on which lay the child

settling down beside the crib upon a stool t

arms were tight pressed against her sides, her fingers opening and shutting in her agony. Now and then in her nervousness sh

ere no dangers that the sea could unfold which this silent surfman had not met and conquered, and would again. Every fisherman on the coast knew Fogarty's pluck and skill, and many o

ohn asked in a surprised tone. "You shouldn't have left him without letting me know.

and was about to reply when th

pullin' makin' the p'int. It cuts in turrible there, you know, doctor. Tod seemed to be all right when he left him this mornin'. I had husband'

e little fellow, who still lay with eyes closed, one stout brown hand and arm clear of the coverlet, and stood watching his breathing. Every now and then a spasm of pain would cross the child's f

ping off his evening coat, and handing the garment to the wife, who hung it mechanically

e corn-meal, and get me some cotton cloth-half an apron, p

oice had put new courage into her heart. Fogarty threw a heap of driftwood on the

aroused

arty, with a fresh look of alarm in his face, tiptoed back of the crib and stood beh

the mush she was preparing. "The other one went this way; we can't lose him. You won't

eyes, blurred with tears, and laid

Tod is a tough little chap with plenty of fight in him yet. I

words that soothe and heal; when others speak them, they sink into their thirsty souls like drops of rain after a long drought. It was just such timely expressions as

cult, the spasms less frequent. The doctor whispered the change to the wife, sitting close at his

gil co

h figure in the room. First the doctor sitting with hands resting on his knees, his aquiline nose and brow clearly outlined against the shadowy background in the gold chalk of the dancing flames, his black evening clothes in strong contrast to the high white of the coverlet, framing the child's face li

d tell her in half-whispered tones of a child who had recovered and who had been much weaker than this one. Again he would turn to Fogarty and talk of the sea, of the fishing outside the inlet, of the big three-masted schooner which had been built by the men at Tom's River, of the

thing of the boy the long swinging tick of the clock, dull and ominous, as if tolling the minutes of a passing life; the ceasele

nt sleep, the child started up from his pillow with

ed for a moment, his ear to the boy's che

you." The woman raised her eyes to his and obeyed mechanically. Sh

caught the lamp from the wall, handed it to Fogarty, and pi

pocket and took from it a leath

ed tone, "and keep your nerve. I thought he'd pull

ut him?" whispered the fis

e over in a minute. ... There, my boy, that'll help you. Now, Fogarty, hand me that cloth. ... All right, little

's head homeward the sails of the fishing-boats lying in a string on the far horizon flashed silver in

of instruments on the desk, hung his cloak and hat to a peg in the closet, and ascended the

t, son," she called in a

, mo

have yo

od Fogarty," he

he matter

ro

going t

ot thi

t for?" The voice had now grown stron

nd were so badly frightened that they were helpless. It's the

he county? All children have croup, and they don't all die!"

t take any risks. This lit

uring which the tired

at the C

d have reached F

e detained yo

mot

night,

r," he answered with a smile