“Right you are, my lad, and it’s little less than a sin to grumble because two or three lighters and a stranded steamer may have been broken up, when the crew came safely through as tough a place as they were ever in. It’s a great pity I allowed you to go with us.”
“But I’ve come out of it without any more harm than any of the others, sir, and it will help me along in learning to be a surfman.”
“You might have got the lesson in an easier fashion, lad. It’s hard enough for tough men like us to have the clothing frozen to our bodies, but a boy like you can’t well stand such hardships.”
“But I’m all right, sir,” Benny replied, striving in vain to prevent his teeth from chattering with the cold. “Leastways, I will be as soon as we get to the station, and this work with the cart warms a fellow up wonderfully.”
Downey did not reply until after a long pause, and then he said emphatically:
“If pluck is necessary in the making of a good surfman, you should be a rare hand at the business, No. 8, before another year has passed.”
What a welcome it was which Benny received from Fluff when they finally arrived at the station and the beach-wagon had been hauled into the boat-house!
The tiny dog capered, and barked, and yelped until it seemed as if he realized how great had been the danger to which his master was exposed, and so violently loving were his demonstrations that Benny could not make any headway at changing his clothing until after having devoted a certain time to his pet.
Then the dog greeted each of the men in turn, and Joe Cushing said as he took him almost affectionately in his arms:
“You an’ No. 8 make up such a team, small though you are, as I never had the good fortune to see before.”