"But when he was ready to go, Tillamook was less ready to loose her capture. The waves were dashing over the landing place and the sky was rapidly becoming beclouded. Yet, for the engineer, there was no question of choice! To stay there meant being marooned, death from exposure and starvation. There was nothing to do but dare. The engineer, beckoning for the boat to come in as near the rock as possible, cast himself into the sea. It was touch and go, but we picked him up, although he was nearly done for when we got him. The report was duly sent into Washington and approved.

"The next thing was to arrange about the actual building. For this a man of skill and experience was needed. John W. Trewavas, a famous lighthouse expert, one of the constructors of the Wolf Rock Light off the English Coast, came to America to pit his knowledge and his strength against the Pacific Ocean. Although it was summer weather, he hung around Tillamook for a month before there was even a chance to make a landing. Then, on September 18, 1879--I was steering the boat--Mr.

Trewavas thought he saw his opportunity. I took the boat right in, so that her nose almost touched the rock. He leaped ash.o.r.e, and, at the same instant, with a tremendous back-water stroke, the oarsmen jumped the surf-boat back out of danger. One second's--yes, half a second's--delay, and the boat would have been in splinters.

"The slope on which Trewavas had landed was wet and covered with slippery seaweed. Experienced and cautious, he waited for a moment to make sure of his foothold, well knowing the dangers of slipping. Peril was nearer him than he knew. A roller came breaking in, sending a spurt of water right over the spot where he was standing. So precarious was his footing that he did not dare move away quickly. Trewavas had just shuffled his feet a few inches further on that slippery slope when a comber heaved its great length along the rock. Almost without a curl it struck just below the landing and a boiling torrent of spume and spray hid the daring man from sight. Just for a second, but when the wave receded, he was gone. The rock was empty."

"Couldn't you pick him up, Father?"

"We never even saw him again, in that whirlpool of currents. The undertow dragged him down immediately and he never came to the surface.

The body was never found."

"Who was the next to land?" asked Eric.

"I was," his father said, "and I landed on exactly the same spot. I had taken off my boots, but even so, the seaweed was slippery and dangerous.

Remembering poor Trewavas' fate, in a jiffy I was off the slope and on the level platform of the rock. They threw me a line from the boat, and I pulled ash.o.r.e some tools and supplies. With a rope to help them, several of the men joined me. That was the beginning of the conquest of Tillamook."

"And did that sort of business last all through?" queried the boy.

"Pretty much. Once, when the lighthouse was about half built, the schooner on which the men lived, and which was anch.o.r.ed a little distance off the rock, was blown from her moorings. A revenue cutter picked her up and brought her back. I tell you the men who were still on the rock had a sure-enough scare when they saw the schooner gone. They made sure they were marooned and done for. I had a job to keep them at work.

"Then there was another time, just when we were finishing the house, a terrific storm came up and the seas washed clear over the lower part of the rock. In the middle of the night there was an awful crash. Some of the men wanted to rush out to see what it was. I had to stand by the door with a revolver and threaten to shoot the first man who left."

"Why?"

"If they'd gone out, it's more than likely that some of them would have been washed or blown away, and I was responsible. In the morning we found that one of the tool-houses had been blown in. I watched those men like a hen does her chickens, and we didn't have a single accident in the building of Tillamook Rock Light after the work of actual construction was begun."

"You're sorry to say good-by to the old light, Father," said the boy sympathetically.

The old inspector roused himself from a reverie into which he had fallen.

"Yes," he admitted, "I am. But what the Commissioner says, goes! Of course it's always interesting to face new problems, and I'll have a freer hand on the Lakes. It'll be easier for you to get home from the East, too, when you're at the Academy."

"That's providing I get there all right," agreed Eric. "Winning into the Coast Guard is just about the one thing I want most in the world."

"And like everything else in the world that's worth getting, you've got to work for it," his father added. "Well, here we are at the wharf again. This is probably the last time you'll smell the old Pacific, Eric, for in another week it'll be a case of 'Go East, young man, go East!'"

"I hope it isn't going to be too cold for Mother," the boy suggested.

"It'll be cold enough, don't you worry about that," the other answered, "I've heard enough about the Great Lakes. But it's a clear cold, not damp like it is out here. The cold won't hurt you, anyway. It'll give you a chance to harden up."

When, ten days later, Eric helped the family to settle in its new home in Detroit, the headquarters of the Eleventh Lighthouse District, he thought his fears of cold would be unfounded. The unusual beauty of the city of Detroit in the haze of an autumn afternoon, gave no sense of a rigorous winter. This feeling received a jolt, however, when, strolling along the river front next day, he came across two of the huge ice-breaker car ferries, awaiting their call to defy Jack Frost. He was standing watching them, and trying to picture 'the Dardanelles of America' under the grip of ice, when a boy about his own age, with one arm in a sling, slapped him on the shoulder.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE DEFIER OF THE PACIFIC.

Tillamook Rock, against which six thousand miles of ocean surges beat in vain.

Courtesy of U.S. Bureau of Lighthouses.]

"Ed!" exclaimed Eric. "Who'd have thought of seeing you here!"

"Why not, old man?" said the other laughing, "I live here."

"Do you? Bully! So do I. The folks moved here yesterday."

"Your father, too?"

"Sure."

"I thought he'd never leave the Coast."

"He didn't want to," said Eric, "but he was appointed inspector in charge of this district, so he had to come. But what's happened to you,"

the lad continued, "what have you been doing with yourself?"

"Got my arm broken in a mine rescue," the other said.

"What kind of a mine rescue? An accident?"

"Coal-mine explosion."

"But what are you doing with coal mines?"

"I'm trying to qualify as a mining expert. You're not the only one who thinks Uncle Sam's the best boss there is. I'm going into the government, too."

"You are? In the Geological Survey?"

"Bureau of Mines," the other answered. "How about you? Still thinking of the Revenue Cutter Service--no, Coast Guard it is now, isn't it?"

"Yes, Coast Guard," Eric agreed. "You bet I'm going in, if I can make it. But the exams are the stiffest things you ever saw! I'm going to cram for them this whole winter."

"Isn't that great! I'm doing special work here, too. What's your end?

Mathematics and navigation, I suppose?"

"Mostly mathematics," Eric replied. "What's yours?"

"Mineralogy and chemistry," his friend replied. "I'm going to try to specialize on the prevention of accidents in mines. I've got a good reason to remember my subject." He nodded with a certain grim humor to his bandaged arm.

"How did you do it?"

"I was down with a rescue party," said the older lad, "and we got caught. That was all."

With his characteristic impetuosity, Eric took hold of his friend's unbandaged arm and led him to a seat in Owen Park, just facing Belle Isle, the most beautiful island park in the United States. With his love of lighthouses, the Light at the northeast corner seemed to Eric like an old friend.

"There," he said. "Now you're going to sit right there, Ed, and tell me all about it. I've only had two or three letters from you since you left 'Frisco, and we were in First-Year High together."

"That's so," his friend agreed. "All right, if you've got to have the yarn, here goes." He leaned back on the bench, and began his story.