“Benny claims the right to do patrol duty, if he’s No. 8 in this ’ere crew, an’ the keeper has given permission for him to act as my apprentice, exceptin’ when the weather is too rough. Therefore, Mr. Benjamin H. Foster, you’ll make ready for a four hours’ turn, and the thermometer is standin’ well down to zero. If this night’s work don’t give you a different idea of what it’s fitting a lad should do; then I’ll say there’ll be no use in our tryin’ to keep you out of the Service.”
If Benny suffered from the cold during this four hours’ tramp, Sam Hardy was none the wiser regarding it, for he held the pace regardless of rough ways or banks of snow, plodding sturdily by the surfman’s side throughout the entire time. But it was observed by Sam Hardy that on their return to the station he went immediately to bed, and next morning, in relating the experiences of the previous night to the keeper privately, Sam added:
“He’s all grit, that lad is, an’ when he’s older grown I allow he’ll be an ornament to this ’ere station.”
The cook declared, after dinner had been eaten and the apartments set to rights, that it was necessary for Keeper Downey to issue a positive order preventing No. 8 from doing more than his share of the work, and Benny, his face crimsoning with pleasure, would have turned the conversation into some other channel.
“I mean what I say,” the cook added emphatically. “There’s to be a regular Kitchen Station Bill made out for you, else before many days I’ll find myself idle. So let it be understood, No. 8, that you’re only to do so much of the work as belongs to your part, and in the future you and Fluff C. Foster will have longer loafin’ spells. If you study the Regulations after dark, I reckon it will be enough.”
Tom Downey had begun questioning the cook as to what share of the work Benny really did, when the noise of bells was heard outside, and a moment later came a knock at the door followed almost immediately by the entrance of Mr. Bradford—he whom, as the crew claimed, Fluff had rescued from drowning.
He greeted the men cheerily; had a kindly word for Benny; but took Fluff in his arms petting him affectionately.
“I wasn’t satisfied with leaving matters as they were day before yesterday, so far as this little fellow was concerned,” he said, addressing himself to Keeper Downey. “But for the dog I should have been drowned, and as Benny refused me the satisfaction of repaying Fluff, I claim the right to bestow upon him what the government would award either of you for a timely rescue of life.”
While speaking he had drawn from his pocket a daintily fashioned silver collar to which was attached a small gold token.
“It is a medal of honor made from a coin, and inscribed: ‘To Fluff C. Foster for having saved the life of Francis P. Bradford, January 2, 1894.’ That much I am entitled to give, regardless of what the dog’s master may think, and I only hope it may be in my power at some future time to bestow upon Benny a more substantial token of regard.”