In the meantime the last light-ship had gone into winter quarters, the last buoy had been taken away, and even Billy understood that navigating the straits was a perilous undertaking. Whenever a boat whistled to be reported, the whole family ran to the window to see it pass, while the fog-horn sounded a farewell, and Billy's father dipped the stars and stripes in parting salute, to which the boat made answer.
One steam-barge, the Wallula, was long unaccounted for. She was the last of the season, as Billy knew. He and Betty watched almost as anxiously as their father for the belated boat. One afternoon there came a blinding snow-storm, and for the first time Billy agreed with Betty in pitying the poor sailors, especially those on the Wallula.
"Just think of being out in such a storm, with the light-ships all gone and the buoys all taken away!" said the little girl. "I don't see how a boat could help going on the shoals. Don't you ever be a sailor, Billy, will you?"
"No," replied Billy, "of course not; I'll be the captain."
A wonderful sight greeted Billy the following day. As usual he was up early, and through the east window in the sitting-room he saw the Wallula frozen fast in the ice not far from shore.
"Oh, mamma! mamma!" he called. "Here's the big red sun coming right out of the red, red clouds, and it's shining on the Wallula. And the icicles! Oh, mamma! Betty! Come and see the icicles shining on all the ropes. Oh, I must get out there quick."
As Billy dressed, the sun was swallowed by a cloud so big, so black, its shadow dimmed the joy shining in his face.
"Why, mamma!" he shouted, "what a 'normous cloud, and it's spreading over all the sky. I never saw anything happen so quick before. Did you ever see such a cloud! It was so heavy it had to go and fall down over all the sunshine."
"No wonder!" exclaimed Betty, "I should think it would! Look there!"