Lighthouse Kids & the Rum Runners

We four children walked single file down the narrow rutted road. There was no moon, but the stars were bright in the cloudless sky. The circling beams from Point Iroquois lighthouse, our home, lit our path at regular intervals. The summer night was quiet except for the occasional lunatic yodeling of loons across the still water and the questioning calls of whip-poor-wills in the woods. We startled flocks of night hawks, whose red eyes flared as they swooped down for insects.