have scalded his rugged cheeks as molten
metal scalds a sand-pit.

Tod stood amazed. The outburst was a revelation. He had known the
captain ever since he could remember, but always as an austere,
exacting man.

"I'm glad, captain," Tod said simply; "the men'll be glad, too. Shall I
tell 'em?"

The captain raised his head.

"Wait a minute, son." His heart was very tender, all discipline was
forgotten now; and then he had known Tod from his boyhood. "I'll go
myself and tell 'em," and he drew his hand across his eyes as if to dry
them. "Yes, tell 'em. Come, I'll go 'long with ye and tell 'em myself.
I ain't 'shamed of the way I feel, and the men won't be 'shamed
neither."

The sitting-room was full when he entered. Dinner had been announced by
Morgan, who was cook that week, by shouting the glad tidings from his
place beside the stove, and the men were sitting about in their chairs.
Two fishermen who had come for their papers occupied seats against the
wall.

The captain walked to the corner of the table, stood behind his own
chair and rested the knuckles of one hand on the white oilcloth. The
look on his face attracted every eye. Pausing for a moment, he turned
to Polhemus and spoke to him for the others:

"Isaac, I got a letter just now. Fogarty brought it over. You knew my
boy Bart, didn't ye, the one that's been dead nigh on to twenty years?"

The old surfman nodded, his eyes still fastened on the captain. This
calling him "Isaac" was evidence that something personal and unusual
was coming. The men, too, leaned forward in attention; the story of
Bart's disappearance and death had been discussed up and down the coast
for years.

"Well, he's alive," rejoined the captain with a triumphant tone in his
voice, "and he'll be here in a week--comin' to Amboy on a steamer.
There ain't no mistake about it; here's his letter."

The announcement was received in dead silence. To be surprised was not
characteristic of these men, especially over a matter of this kind.
Death was a part of their daily experience, and a resurrection neither
extraordinary nor uncommon. They were glad for the captain, if the
captain was glad--and he, evidently was. But what did Bart's turning up
at this late day mean? Had his money given out, or was he figuring to
get something out of his father--something he couldn't get as long as
he remained dead?

The captain continued, his voice stronger and with a more positive ring
in it:

"He's p