buried in the beach, to pile the sand on with the shovels
provided for that purpose.

"Now one more pull, and we'll have 'em safe!" yelled the captain a
little later, and with a mighty haul his men bent to their task.

"There they come through the last line of surf!" yelled Joe, pointing to
the buoy containing the two shipwrecked persons.

"If only the rope holds," murmured his chum.

Even as he spoke there came a cry from the two men who had been sent to
watch that the anchor in the sand did not drag.

"It's coming! It's coming out!" shouted one of them.

"Sit on it! Hold it down!" yelled the captain. "Into the water after
'em, boys! Come on, ye old seadogs!"

There was a snap--the rope had parted, but so near to the beach were the
two that the life-savers waded into the foam and spume, and grabbed
them, holding them safe.

They were hauled to the beach, on which huddled the others who had been
saved from the wreck.

The lone woman had been taken in charge by the feminine members of the
theatrical troupe, who led her toward their boarding house. They said
they would soon have hot coffee ready for all the sailors.

"Get 'em out of the buoy!" cried the captain, as the two last rescued
were seen to be well-nigh insensible. They were assisted out, and sank
helpless on the sand.

"Pretty far gone," remarked a life saver. "One must be the captain, I
reckon."

"And the other," began Harry Stanton, keeper of the Rockypoint light;
"the other--why, if it isn't Nate Duncan, who used to be my assistant!
He came out of the wreck--Nate Duncan!"

CHAPTER XXV

A NEW QUEST

From where he was standing by a group of the rescued sailors, Joe Duncan
heard what the lighthouse keeper said. The lad rushed forward.

"Nate Duncan!" he repeated, as he gazed at the two men, who were just
beginning to revive under the application of stimulants. "Which one of
you is Mr. Duncan?" he asked, eagerly.

"I--I am," faltered the younger of the two men. "Why, who wants me. Oh,
it's you, Harry Stanton," and he looked at the lighthouse keeper
standing near him. "I--I can explain everything. I----"

"It wasn't I who asked," spoke the lighthouse keeper. "It was this lad
here," and he indicated Joe. "Your son."

"My son!" cried the rescued man. "Are you sure--can it be true. Oh, is
it possible? Don't disappoint me! Are you my son?" and he held out his
hands to Joe.

"I--I think so, father," spoke the boy, softly. "I--I have be