The walk was longer than they had thought, and when noon came they still had some distance to go. As they were hungry they sought out a fisherman's cottage, where, for a small sum, they had a fine meal. Starting out again, they turned an intervening point of land about three o'clock, and then came in view of a lighthouse, located on a pile of rocks, not far from the high-water mark.
"That's the place," said Blake, in a low voice.
"Yes," agreed Joe. "It looks comfortable and homelike, too."
Back of the lighthouse was a small garden, and also a flower bed, and a man could be seen working there. His back was toward the boys.
"I—I wonder if that's him—my father?" said Joe, softly. "He seems to be very old," for they had a glimpse of a long white beard, and the man seemed to be bent with the weight of many years.
"Go up and ask," said Blake. "I'll wait here."
"No, I want you to come with me," insisted his chum. "You were with me when I first heard the good news, and now I want you along to hear the conclusion of it. Come on, Blake."
"No, I'd rather not," and nothing Joe could say would induce his chum to accompany him.
Their talk had been carried on in low voices, and the aged man, working in the garden, had
