The two men whom the lad had saved now came forward as if to give words to their thankfulness, but Keeper Downey prevented any further conversation by saying sharply:
“Captain, you will get your people together and start them at once for the station. No. 8 will show the way, and see to it that you are provided with dry clothing.”
The captain looked around as if asking who No. 8 might be, when Joe Cushing cried:
“He’s that whifflet in front of you, captain. It may seem strange that a lad of his size is a member of a life-saving crew, an’ it’s true he don’t figure on the list; but all the same he has his place with us, an’ always will till he himself shall want to leave the service.”
Benny’s face was crimsoned when he turned to conduct the rescued party along the coast, and he walked some distance in advance fearing lest further praise might be bestowed upon him.
Before having gone a dozen yards he heard Tom Downey say to the cook:
“Follow on, my man, for the chances are those people will need something warm; but you’ll remember that No. 8 is in charge until I get back.”
This was the height of honor, so Benny believed, and he no longer thought of the medal which might possibly be his, because of the fact that the keeper had shown most conclusively that he was a member of the crew of equal standing with the others.