ith soft clouds floating in the blue. At
the base of the hill nestled the buildings and wharves of the Lighthouse
Depot, with the unfinished sea-wall running out from the shore, fringed
with platforms and bristling with swinging booms--the rings of white
steam twirling from the exhaust-pipes.

On either side of the vast basin lay two grim, silent forts, crouched on
grassy slopes like great beasts with claws concealed. Near by, big lazy
steamers, sullen and dull, rested motionless at Quarantine, awaiting
inspection; while beyond, white-winged graceful yachts curved tufts
of foam from their bows. In the open, elevators rose high as church
steeples; long lines of canal-boats stretched themselves out like huge
water-snakes, with hissing tugs for heads; enormous floats groaned under
whole trains of cars; big, burly lighters drifted slowly with widespread
oil-stained sails; monster derricks towered aloft, derricks that pick
up a hundred-ton gun as easily as an ant does a grain of sand--each
floating craft made necessary by some special industry peculiar to the
port of New York, and each unlike any other craft in the harbor of any
other city of the world.

Grogan's house and stables lay just over the brow of this hill, in a
little hollow. The house was a plain, square frame dwelling, with
front and rear verandas, protected by the arching branches of a big
sycamore-tree, and surrounded by a small garden filled with flaming
dahlias and chrysanthemums. Everything about the place was scrupulously
neat and clean.

The stables--there were two--stood on the lower end of the lot. They
looked new, or were newly painted in a dark red, and appeared to have
accommodations for a number of horses. The stable-yard lay below the
house. In its open square were a pump and a horse-trough, at which two
horses were drinking. One, the Big Gray, had his collar off, showing
where the sweat had discolored the skin, the traces crossed loosely over
his back. He was drinking eagerly, and had evidently just come in from
work. About, under the sheds, were dirt-carts tilted forward on their
shafts, and dust-begrimed harnesses hanging on wooden pegs.

A strapping young fellow in a red shirt came out of the stable door
leading two other horses to the trough. Babcock looked about him in
surprise at the extent of the establishment. He had supposed that his
stevedore had a small outfit and needed all the work she could get. If,
as McGaw had said, only boys d