him, so we can locate him. Do you know where Mr. Duncan went?"
"No—I can't say that I do," was the slow answer. "And so you are chums; eh?"
"Yes, and we have been for some years."
"That's nice. You tell each other all your secrets, I suppose?"
"Well, most of 'em."
"Never hold anything back?"
"Why, what do you mean?" asked Blake, for there seemed to be a strange meaning in the old man's voice.
"I mean, lad," and the lighthouse keeper's tones sank to a whisper; "I mean, if I tell you something, can you keep it from him?"
"Why—yes—I suppose so," spoke Blake, wonderingly. "But what is the matter? Isn't his father here?"
"No, he's gone, just as I told him. But look here—he seems a nice sort of lad, and I didn't want to hurt his feelings. I'd rather tell you, as long as you're his chum, and if you can keep a secret."
He looked to where Joe was sitting on the rocks, watching the waves roll lazily up the beach and break. Joe was far enough off so that the low-voiced conversation could not reach him.
"I can keep a secret if I have to," replied Blake.
