The children watched the rocking skiff as the first load was lowered from the ship’s side, McLean receiving and placing the boxes while Stumpy balanced the boat with his oars. With eager eyes they watched the return, and Ronald waded far out to catch the package of papers and letters which his father threw into his arms. Then there was a scramble up the rocks and up the steps to Mother, who scurried off at once to the house, her skirts flapping in the wind, to look over her treasures.
The children ran back again to the shore, Ronald pitching headlong down most of the last flight of steps, but picking himself up quickly and calling back to his sister, “No matter, Les’! Nothing but the nose-bleed!”
His handkerchief held to his nose, he stood by Lesley on the rocks and watched the slow unloading of the barrels of oil, which formed, of course, the largest part of the cargo. Then the Vigilant came to life again, immediately found herself in great haste, puff-puff-puffed impatiently, as if saying, “Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!” gave a loud blast of farewell and made off for her next Lighthouse.
The rolling in to the storehouse and the packing away of the barrels of oil was not of much interest to the children, so, as their father had told them that they need not go home until he went up for dinner with Jenny Lind and the car, they sought for fresh amusement.
“I believe I left a book somewhere down here on the rocks,” said Lesley. “Let’s get it out and read till Father’s ready.”
“No, no!” shouted Ronald, “I don’t want to read now. Let’s go up higher and maybe I can fish off the platform.”
“You remind me of that boy in the ‘po’try’ Mother reads us,” grumbled Lesley, following him slowly, “the one that went through the Alpine Village holding the banner.”
“Don’t remember him!” said Ronald, stopping halfway up the steps.
“Oh, yes, he’s in the Fifth Reader.”
“Well, say him, then!”