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seven of this same morning, the sun was shining quite as brightly—far more brightly, Sally would have declared—on a beach a few hundred miles to the southwest of Salthaven, where, not far from the inlet, stands the Barnabee Light, one of the most ancient on the Jersey shore, or, in fact, on the whole Atlantic coast. The life saving station here established had the honour, a generation back, of trying the first breeches buoy, with considerable success, losing not a life from the wreck. This reputation they and their successors guarded zealously, and now in the early morning light, they were inspecting the tackle of the ugly device that had brought them so much fame.

But today a strange and new figure, unenlisted and uninvited, was assisting in the inspection. Rather roughly ordered to stand off, he watched them for a while, grinning good-naturedly at their chaffing, then wearily sat him down on the sands, and untied a knotted bandana. From its gay folds he produced a frugal repast, appearing quite hurt that none of the guards who had just seemed so friendly would share in it. However, his moods being as variable as the waves or the sunbeams that played on them, he soon forgot this slight 119