Keeper of the light.

The wagon stopped at the foot of the gleaming white tower, and two faces gazed out at the vast lake. The gentle waves lapped the shore, and the pines whispered a welcome. "Here we are, Sarah--the North Winds Lighthouse. Our new home."

That evening, Sarah and Papa took a break from unpacking. He led her up a narrow, winding staircase to a tiny room that was made entirely of windows. Pressing her hands against the glass, Sarah strained to see across the lake. She counted at least twenty fishing boats, but she could not see the other side of the lake.

In the center of the room, Sarah saw the huge lens, which looked like a glass beehive and was almost as tall as she was. Papa reached inside and filled a small lamp with kerosene. "You must never, never touch the lamp," he warned. "But you can help me. Since the lamp must be lit exactly at sunset, you can give the signal to light it."

Sarah watched the sun slowly sink into the lake, spreading a path of fire across the water. When she could no longer see even the tiniest glimmer of gold, she whirled around. "Now!" she said.

Papa touched a match to the wick, and Sarah gasped as the room burst into brilliance. The tiny light grew enormous as it passed through the magnifying lens and out the windows, far over the darkening waters.

Sarah thought Papa had the most important job in the world. Every day that summer, she shined the brass buttons on his uniform. Every evening, she followed him to the lantern room, keeping a careful eye on the sun and giving the signal at just the fight moment. And every night, Papa Watched the light until morning to make sure it never went out.

The days grew shorter as autumn drew near, and Sarah shivered in the evenings. One morning, she awoke to a gray, cloudy sky. The chilly air whipped her hair into her eyes, making them water. Papa paced the bluff all day, his eyes fixed on the fishing boats that were strung along the horizon like beads on a string. Sarah brought him a mug of steaming coffee. "Why don't you come inside and get warm, Papa?" she asked.

"I don't like this weather," Papa answered. "I'll rest after the boats are in."

The wind blew the waves into choppy whitecaps as the afternoon faded into dusk. Tiny drops of rain glistened on Sarah's forehead. The fishing boats headed one by one for the harbor as the waves grew higher.

Suddenly, Papa gave a sharp cry. He ran to the foot of the tower and began untying the knots of the lifeboat ropes as fast as he could. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Sarah ran after him. "What's the matter, Papa?"

"One of the fishermen is in trouble!" Papa answered, wrenching the last knot free.

"But, Papa, you can't go out on the lake!" Sarah shouted against the wind. "It's going to storm!"

"I'll be all right, Sarah. Wait for me inside!" He heaved the lifeboat into the waves and began rowing out into the lake.

Terrified, Sarah raced up the lighthouse stairs, reaching the top just as the first bolt of lightning pierced the water. Through her spyglass, she could see water in the bottom of the fisherman's boat. Papa had almost made it to him, but the waves were pushing the two boats apart.

Sarah felt terribly small and alone, and her heart quaked with fear. The storm bore down with a violent fury. Huge waves crashed over the rocks below, but the sky was growing so dark that soon Sarah could hardly see them.

With a start, she realized that the sun was going down behind the thunderclouds. Papa was not home to light the lamp! Nervously, she glanced at the box of matches. Papa had said never, never to touch the lamp.

Sarah could hardly see anything at all now. Where was Papa? What if his lifeboat capsized? What if he could not swim to shore? What if he could not see to find his way home?

Quickly, Sarah grabbed the matches. With a shaking hand, she struck one and touched it to the wick. As the white beam burst out into the storm, Sarah sank into a chair, trembling. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them away. I have to keep it burning all night, she thought to herself.

Late that night, the storm began to blow itself out. The thunder quieted, the lightning passed, and the rain stopped. Sarah sat quietly, waiting. Papa was out there somewhere.

She meant to stay awake all night, but she jerked her head up and realized that the first rays of sunlight were darting from the horizon. The light was still burning.

Sarah jumped out of her chair and peered hopefully out the windows, but Papa was nowhere in sight. Slowly, she put out the light and made her way down to the beach. The sky was clear and bright. Sarah could hardly believe there had been a storm at all--but Papa was gone.

She climbed to the top of the bluff where Papa had kept watch over the fishing boats. The gulls circled overhead, searching the washed-up seaweed and driftwood for dead fish.

A sudden movement in the distance caught her attention, and her sleepy eyes grew wide as she spotted a figure moving her way. "Papa!" Sarah screamed joyfully as she ran toward the beach.

Papa caught her in his arms and hugged her tight. Sarah saw that he was exhausted, but the buttons on his uniform were as bright as ever. "Sarah," he said. "Thank heavens, you're all right."

"Oh, Papa," she said. "I was so scared. I didn't know what to do! I lit the lamp, Papa. I thought you might not find your way home."

Papa stroked her hair. "I'm glad you did, Sarah. I've been following it all night."

"Did you rescue the fisherman?"

"Yes. The storm blew us a long way down the coast, but we finally made it to shore." He brushed away her tears and felt her shiver from the cold. "I hadn't realized how much you'd grown up this summer, Sarah."

He draped the jacket around her shoulders. "I couldn't ask for a finer assistant lightkeeper."

Sarah's heart swelled with pride as she pulled the jacket around her tight.