"I should say so," answered Bob, fervently. "I have had cause to thank——"
The big man shook his head deprecatingly. "And do you know why I, who am a—a very unsociable individual at the best, encouraged you in your wish to go out to Australia, an' even offered you the extraordinar' advantage o' my company on the journey? No, of course you don't. It was because I knew that uncle you spoke of, my lad."
"You knew him?" cried Bob. "But you didn't say——"
"I thought he was dead," broke in Mackay, gravely; "but I was mistaken. He was, an' is, vera much alive—an' his name is Richard Bentley Wentworth."
"Great Heavens!" ejaculated Bentley, gazing at Bob earnestly. "Can it be true? But of course it is. How could I have been so blind."
Then the scales fell from Bob's eyes. "Uncle Dick!" he cried, rushing forward.
"My dear, dear lad," murmured the explorer, clasping him in his arms. "This is the first happiness I have had for ten years. You are a worthy son of a worthy father, my boy. Thank God I have lived to see you."
To say that the onlookers to this strange scene were surprised would ill express the state of their feelings. They were simply thunderstruck. Then Jack found his voice. "Hurrah!" he shouted, in an ecstasy of glee, and hurried to clasp his comrade's hand. Eagerly they all crowded round to offer their congratulations, and Mackay stood alone, a smile of peaceful contentment stealing over his grim old features.
"Yes," he muttered, "there is some satisfaction in the wanderer's life after a'. Bob steered us here, which was right, but Mackay will be the man to lead the back trail through the mountain."
"I fully believe you, Jim," said a voice at his elbow, and Bentley laid an affectionate grasp upon his arm.