"What's that?" cried Larry.

"It's a signal that she's going to pieces fast!" cried the
coast-guard. "Maybe we'll have to try the breeches buoy to-night. I
must go to the station. They may need my help."

As the beach patrol hurried up the sandy stretch, Larry had half a
notion to follow him. He wanted to see the operation of setting up
the breeches buoy in order to make a good story, with plenty of
details. He was about to propose to the fisherman that they go, when
Bailey, who had gone down to the water's edge, uttered a cry.

"What is it?" called the reporter, hastening to the side of the old
man.

"Looks like a life-raft from the steamer!" exclaimed Bailey. "She
must have broken up. Maybe there's some one on this. Give me a hand.
We'll try to haul it ashore when the next high wave sends it up on
the beach."

Larry strained his eyes for a sight of the object. He could just
discern something white, rising and falling on the tumultuous
billows.

"Come on!" cried Bailey, rushing down into the first line of surf,
as a big roller lifted the object and flung it onward. "Grab it and
pull!"

Larry sprang down the sand. He waded out into the water, surprised
to find how strong it was even in the shallow place. He made a grab