e set yet. He
lifted his head. There was no sun to be seen. With a cry of terror he
sprang to his feet, and, from the slight elevation thus gained, once
more beheld the mighty orb of day, and life, and promise, crowning with
a splendour infinitely beyond anything of this earth, the distant
shore-line that he had striven so stoutly to gain.

Dazzled by its radiance, Cabot saw nothing else during the minute that
it lingered above the horizon. Then, as it disappeared, he uttered
another cry, but this time it was one of incredulous and joyful
amazement, for close at hand, coming directly towards him from out the
western glory, was a ship bearing a new lease of life and freighted
with new opportunities.

The poor lad tried to wave his cap at the new-comers; but after a
feeble attempt sank to his knees, overcome by weakness and gratitude.
It was in that position they found him as the little schooner was
rounded sharply into the wind, and, with fluttering sails, lay close
alongside the drifting raft.

David flung a line that Cabot found strength to catch and hold to,
while the young skipper of the "Sea Bee" sprang over her low rail and
alighted beside the castaway just as the latter staggered to his feet
with outstretched hand. The stranger grasped it tightly in both of
his, and for a moment the two gazed into each other's eyes without a
word. Cabot tried to speak, but something choked him so that he could
not; and, noting this, the other said gently:

"It is all over now, and you are as safe as though you stood on dry
land; so don't try to say anything till we've made you comfortable, for
I know you must have had an almighty hard time."

"Yes," whispered Cabot. "I've been hungry, and thirsty, and wet, and
cold, and scared; but now I'm only grateful--more grateful than I can
ever tell."

A little later the life raft, its mission accomplished, was left to
toss and drift at will, while the "Sea Bee," with everything set and
drawing finely, was rapidly regaining her course, guided by the
far-reaching flash of Cape Race light. In her dingy little cabin,
which seemed to our rescued lad the most delightfully snug, warm, and
altogether comfortable place he had ever entered, Cabot lay in the
skipper's own bunk, regarding with intense interest the movements of
that busy youth.

The latter had lighted a swinging lamp, started a fire in a small and
very rusty galley stove, set a tea kettle on to boil, and a pan of cold