lightning, he did it. He ran at full speed through the woods, his
lighted lantern swinging on his arm, and twice on the way he heard the
boom of the cannon, each time a little nearer. The reports merely made
him run faster. Time was precious, and in the moment of utmost need he
was not willing to lose a second.

He reached the great heap of wood that he had built up on the beach,
worked frantically with flint and steel, shielding the shavings at the
bottom with his body, and quickly set fire to them. The blaze crackled,
leaped and grew. He had built his pyramid so well, and he had selected
such inflammable material, that he knew, if the flames once took hold,
the wind would fan them so fiercely the rain could not put them out.

Higher sprang the blaze, running to the crest of the pyramid, roaring in
the wind and then sending out defiant hissing tongues at the rain. The
boom of the cannon came once more, and, then by the light of his
splendid bonfire, he looked. There was the ship outside the reefs which
his great pyramid of flame now enabled her to see. He shouted in his
joy, and threw on more wood. If he could only build that pyramid high
enough they would see the opening too and make for it.

He worked frantically, throwing on driftwood, the accumulation of many
years, and the flames biting into every fresh log, roared and leaped
higher. The ship ceased to fire her signal guns, and now he saw, with a
great surge of joy, that she was beating up in the storm and trying for
the opening in the reef, her only chance, the chance that he had given
her. He had done his part and he could do no more but feed the fire.

As he threw on wood he watched. His pyramid of flame roared and threw
out sparks in myriads. The ship, a sloop, was having a desperate