ks like a bit of wreckage."

"An' you, with all your hurry, going to stop fur a closer look, and
lose time that'll mebbe prove the most wallyable of your life," growled
the man disgustedly. "Wal, I'll be jiggered!"

"So would I, if I didn't," replied the lad. "It was one of dad's rules
never to pass any kind of a wreck without at least one good look at it,
and so it's one of mine as well. There's what I'm after, now. See,
just off the starboard bow. It's a raft, and David, there's a man on
it, sure as you live. Look, he's standing up and waving at us. Now,
he's down again! Poor fellow! In with the jib, David! Spry now, and
stand by with a line. I'm going to round up, right alongside."

CHAPTER V.

WHITE BALDWIN AND HIS "SEA BEE."

The hour that preceded the coming of that heaven-sent schooner was the
blackest of Cabot Grant's life, and as he sat with bowed head on the
wet platform of his tossing raft he was utterly hopeless. He believed
that he should never again hear a human voice nor tread the blessed
land--yes, everything was ended for him, or very nearly so, and
whatever record he had made in life must now stand without addition or
correction. His thoughts went back as far as he could remember
anything, and every act of his life was clearly recalled. How mean
some of them now appeared; how thoughtless, indifferent, or selfish he
had been in others. Latterly how he had been filled with a sense of
his own importance, how he had worked and schemed for a little
popularity, and now who would regret him, or give his memory more than
a passing thought?

Thorpe Walling would say: "Served him right for throwing me over, as he
did," and others would agree with him. Even Mr. Hepburn, who had
doubtless given him a chance merely because he was his guardian, would
easily find a better man to put in his place. Some cousins whom he had
never seen nor cared to know would rejoice on coming into possession of
his little property; and so, on the whole, his disappearance would
cause more of satisfaction than regret. Most bitter of all was the
thought that he would never have the opportunity of changing, or at
least of trying to change, this state of affairs, since he had
doubtless looked at the sun for the last time, and the blackness of an
endless night was about to enfold him.

Had he really seen his last ray of sunlight and hope? No; it could not
be. There must be a gleam left. The sun could not hav