amid the storm and darkness.

"That's George Tucker, burning a Coston light," explained Bailey.
"He patrols this part of the beach to-night. They may try the boat
again, but it's a risk."

There was an exchange of colored lights between the beach patrol and
those on the steamer. Larry watched them curiously. He tried to
picture the distress of those aboard the ship, waiting for help from
shore; help that was to save them from the hungry waves all about.

"I wonder how I'm going to get news of this to the paper," Larry
asked himself. He was beginning to feel quite worried, for he
realized a great tragedy might happen at any moment, and he knew the
_Leader_ must have an account of it early the next morning, for it
was an afternoon paper. The managing editor would probably order an
extra.

"Couldn't I go down to the life-saving station?" asked Larry. "Maybe
I could go out in a boat and get some news."

"They wouldn't let you, and, if they would, you couldn't send any
news up to your paper from here to-night," replied the fisherman.
"The nearest telegraph office is closed. Better stay here until
morning. Then you can do something. I'll fix you up with oilskins
after supper, if you like, and we'll go out on the beach. But I
don't believe they'll launch the life-boat to-night."

The storm had now settled down into a fierce, steady wind and
dashing rain. It fairly shook the little hut, and the stove roared