“Lookout there, or he’ll pull you overboard!” shouted Dan in fierce alarm, as Rex pulled still harder. “Golly! I believe he wants us to come ashore with him.”
“Oh, he does,—he does!” said Freddy, eagerly. “He has hunted something down and wants us to get it, Dan. Let us see what it is.”
It was a temptation that two live boys could not resist. Mooring Neb’s old fishing boat to a sharp projecting rock, they proceeded to wade where it would have been impossible to navigate; Rex leaping before them, barking jubilantly now, as if he had won his point.
“You stand back, kid!” (Through all the excitement of a discoverer, Dan did not lose sight of his responsibilities.) “Let me go ahead, so if there is anything to hurt I’ll strike it first. Straight behind in my steps, and lookout for suck-holes!”
And, with Rex leading, they proceeded Indian file over the narrow strip of sand that shelved to the sea, and then on through thicket and branches that hedged the shore in wild, luxuriant growth, until suddenly the ruins of the old lighthouse rose out of the tangle before them. The shaft that had upheld the beacon light was all gone save the iron framework, which rose bare and rusted above the little stone cabin that had sheltered the keeper of long ago, and that still stood amid crumbling stones and fallen timbers.
“Back, Freddy,—back!” shouted Dan, as something big and fierce bolted out of the ruins. “Why, it’s the other dog!” he added in relief. “Mr. Wirt must be somewhere around.”
And, peering into the open door of the cabin, he stood dumb with dismay; for there indeed, stretched upon the rotten floor under the broken roof, was his friend of the steamboat. His gun was beside him, his head pillowed on his knapsack, his eyes closed, all his pride and strength and manly bearing gone; only the short, hard breathing showed that he was still alive.
“Golly!” gasped Freddy, who had crept in behind his chum. “Is—is he dead, Dan?”
“Not—not—yet, but he looks mighty close to it. Mr. Wirt—” he faltered, bending over the prostrate form; “Mr. Wirt!” he repeated louder. There was no answer. “I’m afraid he’s gone,” said Dan, in an awe-struck voice; and Freddy burst into boyish tears.
“What are you crying about?” asked Dan, gruffly.