Benny could give a very good synopsis of, and in many cases repeat verbatim, every chapter in the Revised Regulations. Each of the crew in turn had taught Fluff C. Foster a new trick, until his head was so stored with knowledge of this kind that a full hour was required in which to display all his accomplishments, and Joe Cushing had begun to lay his plans for the day when he and No. 8 were to visit the city clad in full uniform.
Then came a letter which disturbed all this serenity, and plunged the inmates of the station into a most painful state of perplexity and apprehension.
An ordinary-looking envelope covered the missive, such an one as might have brought an account of the simplest business transaction, and yet it threatened to change the whole course of affairs for this particular life-saving crew.
It was addressed simply to the keeper of the station, and bore the post-mark of a town in the interior of New York State.
Tom Downey opened it carelessly, read the lines hurriedly at first, and then more slowly, as if he found it difficult to understand the meaning.
He sat with his gaze fixed upon the page so long that Sam Hardy, who had been questioning Benny regarding the proper method of landing in a small boat through the surf, asked curiously:
“What’s gone wrong? You look as if there was bad news in that letter.”
“And at first glance it strikes me it is bad news,” the keeper replied. “I was tryin’ to make up my mind whether it would be well to let all hands know what may come to us, or if anything would be gained by keepin’ it a secret for a spell.”
“If it’s bad news, the sooner we know it the better, accordin’ to my way of thinkin’,” Joe Cushing said promptly; and this remark decided Tom Downey, for without further hesitation he read the following aloud: