condition of wrong-doing, and were in constant dread of deserved punishment.  Yet no dog ever belied its looks more than did this one, for it was a good dog, and a warmhearted dog, and never did a wicked thing, and never was punished, so that its excessive humility and apparent fear and trembling were quite unaccountable.  Like all dogs of its class it was passionately affectionate, and intensely grateful for the smallest favour.  In fact, it seemed to be rather thankful than otherwise for a kick when it chanced to receive one, and a pat on the head, or a kind word made it all but jump out of its black skin for very joy.

Bremner called it “Pup”.  It had no other name, and didn’t seem to wish for one.  On the present occasion it was evidently much perplexed, and very unhappy, for it looked at the boat, and then wistfully into its master’s face, as if to say, “This is awful; have you resolved that we shall perish together?”

“Now, Pup,” said Bremner, when the boat disappeared in the shades of evening, “you and I are left alone on the Bell Rock!”

There was a touch of sad uncertainty in the wag of the tail with which Pup received this remark.

“But cheer up, Pup,” cried Bremner with a sudden burst of animation that induced the creature to wriggle and dance on its hind legs for at least a minute, “you and I shall have a jolly night together on the beacon; so come along.”

Like many a night that begins well, that particular night ended ill.  Even while the man spoke, a swell began to rise, and, as the tide had by that time risen a few feet, an occasional billow swept over the rocks and almost washed the feet of Bremner as he made his way over the ledges.  In five minutes the sea was rolling all round the foot of the beacon, and Bremner and his friend were safely ensconced on the mortar-gallery.

There was no storm that night, nevertheless there was one of those heavy ground swells that are of common occurrence in the German Ocean.

It is supposed that this swell is caused by distant westerly gales in the Atlantic, which force an undue quantity of water into the North Sea, and thus produce the apparent paradox of great rolling breakers in calm weather.

On this night there was no wind at all, but there was a higher swell than usual, so that each great billow passed over the rock with a roar that was rendered more than usually terrible, in consequence of the utter absence of all other sounds.

At first Bremner watched the rising tide, and as he sat up there in the dark he felt himself dreadfully forsaken and desolate, and began to comment on things in general to his dog, by way of inducing a more sociable and cheery state of mind.

“Pup, this is a lugubrious state o’ things.  Wot d’ye think o’t?”

Pup did not say, but he expressed such violent joy at being noticed, that he nearly fell off the platform of the mortar-gallery in one of his extravagant gyrations.