the little wooden light–house. These had been torn entirely away, and nothing remained but the huge stone foundations which were visible now at the bottom of the ebb tide. The morning was clear and fine, the wind had dropped, and only the swelling billows in the bay and the timbers floating on every side remained to tell of last night's tempest.
Little Ruby was early stirring, and before Mona and her mother were awake she ran down the hill towards Peel. An hour passed and the little one had not returned. Two hours went by, and Mona could see no sign of the child from the corner of the road. Then she became anxious, and went in search of her.
"Gerr out of this and take the boat round to the Lockjaw, d'ye hear?" shouted Bill Kisseck, "and see if any harm's been done down there. Take a rope or two and that tarpaulin and cover up anything that's wet."
Danny lifted the tarpaulin, and went quietly out of the house.
"I'll never make nothin' of that lad," said Kisseck; "he hasn't a word to chuck at a dog."
Danny walked down to the harbor, threw the tarpaulin and two ropes into the boat, got into it himself, took the oar, and began to scull toward the sea. As he passed the ruined end of the pier a voice hailed him. He looked up. It was Christian Mylrea.
"If you are going round the Head I'd like to go with you," said Christian. "I want to see what mischief the sea has done to the west wall of the castle. Five
