Janet of the Dunes | Page 6

was his pride and glory, and the freedom of
solitude and silence!
When David began his climb--because it was the manner of the man to
face life with a song upon his lips--he hummed softly:
"I would not live alway, No, welcome the tomb."
He paused on the first landing and took in the satisfying prospect of his
garden, edged around by summer flowers and showing a thrifty
collection of needful vegetables.
"And only man is vile!" panted David, starting upward, and changing
his song. By the time the third landing was reached care and anxiety

were about forgotten and the outlook upon the rippling bay was
inspiring.
"And we put three shots in the lobster pots, Three cheers for the witches
three"
Davy remembered only snatches of this song, but its hilarious
tunefulness appealed to his state of feeling on the third landing. David
chuckled, gurgled, and puffingly mounted higher.
"Looks like it might be a good crab season," he muttered, "an' I hope t'
gum! the city folks won't trifle with the isters out o' season.
'Brightly gleams our Father's mercy, From His lighthouse evermore;
But to us--'"
puff, pant, groan!
"'He gives the keepin' of the lights alon' the shore!'" David had reached
the Light! He always timed himself to the moment. When the sun
dropped behind the Hills, David's Light took possession of the coming
night!
He stepped inside the huge lamp, rubbed an imaginary spot off the
glistening glass, turned up the wick and touched it with the ready match.
Then he came forth and eyed the westering sun. That monarch, riding
through the longest day of the year, was reluctant to give up his power;
but David was patient. With hand upon the cloth covering he bided his
time. It was a splendid sunset. Beyond the Hills the clouds were
orange-red and seemed to part in order that the round sun should have a
wide course for his royal exit. The shadows were coming up out of the
sea. David felt, rather than saw, the purpling light stealing behind him,
but he had, for the present, to do only with the day.
"There was glory over all the land," quoted the man, "a flood of glory."
Then the sun was gone! On the instant the covering was snatched away,
and David's Light shone cheerily in the glory that at first obscured it.

"Your turn will come!" comforted the keeper as if to a friend, "they'll
bless ye, come darkness!"
With that he stepped out upon the narrow balcony surrounding the
tower, to "freshen up."
From that point the dunes, dividing the ocean and the bay, seemed but
weak barriers. The sea rolled nearer and nearer.
"Thus far and no farther," whispered David reverently; "the Lord don't
need anythin' bigger than that strip o' sand to make His waters obey His
will. No mountains could be safer than them dunes when once the Lord
has set the limit. That looks like the Comrade off beyond the P'int!" he
went on; "I'll take my beef without cabbage, if that ain't Janet a-makin'
for the Light, an' as late as this, too! Billy's told her 'bout the change,
an' she wouldn't wait, once she was convinced. She might have stayed
with Billy till mornin', the impatient little cuss."
The sailboat was scudding before the ocean breeze. Its white wing was
the only one upon the bay, and David watched it with a new interest.
"Comin' over t' make her fortune," he muttered, "comin' over t' help
fleece the boarders! By gum! I wonder, knowin' what Billy knows, an'
havin' the handlin' of a craft like Janet, he didn't hold the sheet rope
pretty snug as he headed her int' this harbor."
The boat made the landing without a jar. The girl sprang out, secured
the Comrade, then shouldered a carpet-bag, boy-fashion, and came up
the winding path toward the lighthouse. David watched her, bending
over the railing, until she passed within; then he straightened himself
and waited.
The purple gloaming came; the Light took on courage and dignity; the
stars shone timidly as if apologizing for appearing where really their
little glow was not needed. Then softly:
"Cap'n David, are you on the balcony?"

"Who be ye comin' on the government property without permission?"
growled David. Janet came out of the narrow doorway and flung her
arms around the keeper's neck.
"Cap'n Davy, I've come off to be adopted! I had to stop downstairs to
make my room ready and pay Susan Jane two weeks in advance, but
I've got business with you now. Bring out a couple of chairs, Cap'n, this
is going to be a long watch."
David paused as he went upon the errand.
"The money is what sticks, Janet. Money atween me an' Billy is a