"Fire!" he said. "Fire!"

He rushed to a window, threw it up, and put his head out into the black
storm, through which echoed the notes of the bell of old St. John's. They
made such an impression it seemed as if they must be living things out in
the darkness walking. So strange, so unreal was this, it was a relief to
hear the approaching footsteps of somebody who was actually "flesh and
blood."

"Where's the fire?" asked Will.

"Fire!" said the man, walking leisurely along. "I should think any booby
might know this is not the night for a fire, when things are so wet; but
it is the night for a wreck, and the feller pullin' that bell tells me
there is one off Gull's P'int."

"Is it? I am going, then, and I should think any one but a booby would be
going in that direction," retorted Will, noticing that the man was not
moving toward the quarter where the wreck was. The stranger muttered
something about knowing his own business best, while Will pulled in his
head and slammed down the window.

"Charlie!" he said, stepping into the boy's little chamber after lighting
a lamp.

"What is it?" asked Charlie, winking his eyes at the blinding glare of the
light.

"Do you want to go with me?"