"You do?"
"I do that," was the cheery answer. "There's no tellin'."
Again came that cry from the station, a cry whose very repetition made it all the more nerve-racking,
"I've drowned him! I've drowned him! I had to kick him free to save myself!"
Eric shivered. There was something gruesome in the monotony of the same words over and over again. The noises on the beach died down. Several of the men, who did not live at the station-house, went to their cottages. The boy gave a jump when he heard a step behind him and saw the old doctor standing there.
The night was very still. Nothing could be heard but the roar of the surf on the beach. Eric, who was imaginative, thought that the surf seemed to be triumphing in having snatched another life. Feeling sure that the doctor would understand him, the boy turned and said,
"Doctor, shall we be able to beat out the sea?"
The Highland imagination of the doctor instantly caught the lad's meaning.
"You've heard it, too!" he said. "Many and many's the time I've thought the sea was skreeling in triumph when a drowned man was brought ashore. But I've snatched a many back."
"Will you—" began the boy.