"Why, it's a dog! A puppy, and a red one at that! Must be some sort of a setter! I've seen pictures of 'em—Irish or Gordon setter! Hi, boy!" he called to the dog.
The creature slunk toward him, almost crawling on its stomach so far down did it cringe. Rain-soaked, sea-sprayed and frightened it crawled to the feet of the coast guard, and lay there whimpering.
"Well, old boy! Poor dog! Poor puppy! And you aren't really any more'n a puppy!" murmured the man in his dripping oilskins as he continued to shine the light on the cringing dog. "What's the matter, old fellow?"
At the sound of the kind voice the dog looked up and feebly wagged his tail, thumping it on the wet sand.
"Somebody's been beating you; more shame to 'em!" murmured the guard as he patted the wet head. "What's the matter, old boy? Hungry?"
A little whine, a look such as only a dog can give, and another wag and thump of the tail. The animal snuggled closer to the rubber boots of the guard.
Sig looked up the beach. He was due, soon, to meet the other man from Bay Head. It would not do to be late. But he saw no flicker of light, such as his partner of the night sometimes showed. The beach was dark, wave-swept and rain-soaked.
"Poor dog!" murmured the guard, turning his back to the wind so he might not swallow his words. "Wonder where you came from? Never saw you before that I know of. Nobody in the village owns a dog like you! Did you come off some boat? Might have in this blow; you're wet enough, land knows!"
Again he reached over to pat the head and the dog licked his hand. Sig fumbled inside his oilskin coat. He carried a sandwich or two to eat for his midnight lunch, and he had not yet opened the packet his wife had put up. He did so now, not daring to bring it from beneath the shelter of the yellow garment, for fear of having the bread and meat rained on and salt-soaked at once. But he broke off a part of the sandwich in his pocket, tearing the paper in which it was wrapped, and fed it to the dog.
Eagerly and hungrily the castaway of the night devoured the morsel—it was small at best.