At the door of the cottage sat an old, old man with white hair. A cane was by his side. He spoke to Bob and Paul and let them come in and sit on the steps near him. He was the fisherman's father. He was called Captain John. He had once been a fisherman himself. Now he was too old to work, but he knew many stories of the sea. Bob and Paul never grew tired of hearing them. Every day they came to the cottage. Captain John was always there sitting in the doorway, with his cane by his side. He was always ready to tell them an exciting true story of the sea.

One day a big gray cat was curled up at Captain John's feet. "Is p.u.s.s.y your pet, Captain John?" asked Bob. "No, little lad," said the old man.

"She belongs to my daughter. My pet is almost as old as I am. She's a brave old friend. We have stuck by each other for over fifty years.

We've seen hard times and good times together. And now we are growing old side by side."

"Will you show her to us, please, Captain John?" said the two little boys.

"Yes, yes," replied the old man; "come with me." He took his cane and walking very, very slowly, he took the boys around the cottage to a tiny garden. There was one spot in the garden that was bright with flowers.

Captain John led them there. "Here she is," he said. "Here's my old friend, the _Sea Gull_, dressed up in her Sunday clothes."

The boys looked and saw that the _Sea Gull_ was a boat. She was Captain John's pet--almost as old as he was. She was his brave old friend who had stuck by him for over fifty years. Now she was too old for the sea so she had a home in the tiny garden. The flowers that had been planted in her were her "Sunday clothes."

[Ill.u.s.tration: CAPTAIN JOHN AND THE _SEA GULL_]

"She seems alive to me," said Captain John. "I am glad we can grow old side by side."

I wish you could hear of all the good times Bob and Paul had at Fairport. Every day was packed with fun and both little boys grew taller and very brown.

At last vacation time was nearly over. Bob left Fairport first. He and his family went home in his father's automobile. They camped out every night. The camping tents and the pots and pans were strapped on the back of the automobile. They rode all day. They went over hills, through valleys, and into cities.

One day they pa.s.sed a flower farm. "Oh, Mother," begged Bob, "May I stop and buy some flowers?" "Why, Bob," said his mother, "What do you want with flowers? We haven't any room for them in the automobile."

"I don't want them to take home," said Bob, "I want to send them by the postman to Captain John. They are for the _Sea Gull_."

So the automobile stopped and Bob spent his birthday money at the flower farm. The next day the parcel post brought Captain John a box of spring bulbs and fall plants. With them was a card in Bob's very best writing:

[Ill.u.s.tration: Handwritten: To Captain John's Pet

The "Sea Gull"

from B. J.

Guess who this is.]

Paul stayed in Fairport a week after Bob had left.

He was not lonely, for his daddy had come. Paul and his daddy were great friends. They went around together like two chums.

The day before Daddy's week was up they went out for a long sail. Mrs.

Ray was afraid to go, but Paul was not. He felt very big and brave. With Daddy to sail the boat everything would be all right. The sun shone, the wind blew, and away they started. The boat seemed to skim along as lightly as a sea gull.

At last they landed on a little island. Paul helped his daddy gather sticks and build a fire. Mr. Ray put four ears of corn under the wood.

Paul thought they would burn up, but they didn't. The husks covered them. Next Mr. Ray put a pan on the fire and fried some bacon and some potatoes. Paul unpacked a basket of sandwiches, and by that time everything was ready. They had no plates and no napkins. They ate with their fingers, in just the way little boys sometimes wish to do and mustn't, when they are at the table.

Daddy told stories of camping and hunting as they sat by the fire.

Time pa.s.sed very quickly. It was four o'clock before they knew it.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"All aboard," cried Mr. Ray, and in a very few minutes the lunch things were packed up and they were in the boat. At first the sails filled and the boat moved swiftly on. But suddenly the sky grew dark. Great claps of thunder were heard. Lightning played all around the boat. The wind blew fiercely. The waves dashed so high that the boat was almost upset.

Paul felt very small and almost afraid, but not quite. His big, brave daddy was there. "Sit still, hold tight," Daddy called. His voice sounded far away, the storm was making such a noise.

It seemed hours and hours that Paul sat still and held tight. He grew cold and stiff and wet. The sky became blacker and blacker. The wind howled louder and louder. Sometimes Daddy shouted, hoping that some one in a bigger boat would hear and come to help him. But no help came.

All at once a clear, bright light shone over the water. "The lighthouse!" cried Mr. Ray, "The lighthouse! We are saved."

He turned the boat and steered toward the light. It shone into the darkness like a kind eye.

Fighting the wind and storm was hard work, but at last the boat reached the island on which the lighthouse stood. As the boat came to the sh.o.r.e Mr. Ray called and called. At last the door of the lighthouse opened and the keeper came out. He helped pull the boat to sh.o.r.e. Then he lifted Paul out and carried him into the lighthouse and Mr. Ray followed.

At first Paul was too wet and cold and too much frightened to care about anything. But when he had been warmed and his clothes dried he began to look around. He was in a cheerful room with the lighthouse keeper and his wife. His dear daddy was there, too. And there was another person in the room. This was a little boy with a very pale face. He sat in a wheeled chair. His poor back was so weak he could not walk. But his face was bright and smiling. He held out his hand to Paul. "I'm d.i.c.k," he said, "I came to the lighthouse in a storm too, and I've been here ever since."

"Oh, please tell me about it," said Paul.

"It was eight years ago," began d.i.c.k, "when Father Moore found me in a boat. There had been a shipwreck and I must have been in it. I don't remember anything about it. I was only two years old and my back had been hurt. But Father Moore saved me and he and Mother Moore took me to be their little boy."

"Yes, he's our little boy," said the lighthouse keeper, who was "Father Moore." "We live here together and keep the light."

"Don't you get lonely?" Paul asked d.i.c.k.

"Oh, no," said d.i.c.k, "I have a great many things to play with. See!" And he pointed to a big table near his chair. On it were many small toys.

There was a farm with fences, houses, horses, cows, and chickens. There were people too--a man, a woman, and two children. Everything was made of clay. There was a tall clay lighthouse and around it were clay ships and boats.

[Ill.u.s.tration: d.i.c.k AND HIS CLAY TOYS]

"What splendid toys," said Paul. "Did Santa Claus bring them?"

"I made them myself," said d.i.c.k proudly. "My back and legs aren't much good but my fingers do whatever I want them to. Whenever I am lonely I think of something to make and then my fingers make it. I think," he went on laughing, "I'll make you and your father after you have gone."

Paul hated to leave the lighthouse and brave little d.i.c.k. But he and Daddy had to go as soon as the storm was over. They knew Mrs. Ray would be greatly worried about them.

"I'll write to you," said Paul to d.i.c.k, "and I'll send you some of my books with pictures in them. Then you can make more things."

How glad Paul's mother was when her little boy and his daddy reached home. That night she came in to tuck him snugly in bed.

"Is my little boy sorry this is his last night at Fairport?" she asked.

"No, Mother," said Paul. "I hate to leave Captain John, and the cave, and the beach, and the ocean; but I want to get home. I want to see Bob and Betty and Peggy and Dot. I want them to help me do something for d.i.c.k."

"What do you want to do, dear?" asked Mrs. Ray.

"I want to send him something to keep his fingers busy, perhaps a tool chest and some wood," said Paul. "And, O Mother, do you think we could do something to make his back strong?"

"Perhaps we can," answered Mrs. Ray. "We must see what we can do to help him."

You may be sure that some happy days came to d.i.c.k after the five little friends had put their heads together.