"Mr. Tolman, could you tell the man if you should see him again?" asked Dave.
"Could I? yes, indeed."
"How did he look? What was the colour of his hair, his eyes; and how was he dressed?"
"Now--you will think it strange--I can't tell any of his features or what clothes he wore, and yet if I should see him I don't believe I should miss him. I could tell him by the look of his eyes--a look that somehow appealed to me--a look without hope. Often when at night I see the froth on the bar in the moonlight, I seem to hear that man calling to me, and I take it as a sign that he is still in a worse fix than if on the bar. It is an awful curse, rum, and I am a sworn foe to it."
Here the light-keeper placed the sandal-wood box again on its shelf, and Dave turned to look out of the window near the kitchen table.
"See here, Mr. Tolman; what's that?"
"Where?"
"Floating and curling over that point!"
"Can't you guess?"
"Looks like fog! Yes, I can see now plainly. Oh, can we start up the fog-signal?"