“Sure! She’s a beaut!” exclaimed Spike, admiringly.
“Say, that picture is just like you,” remarked Gene, looking over the medallion at the face before him.
“Yous dress is wet, Missus,” said Spike.
“Were you looking for your baby there?” queried Gene, nodding toward the river.
She suddenly arose to her feet and listened, meanwhile tenderly replacing the medallion in her corsage.
“I must not rest longer. The storm will soon be on us. The boat rocks.”
She paused in a listening attitude: “Her voice! I hear it again. She is calling, ‘Mamma, papa, help! Save me!’ There! There!”—and she pointed over the water. “See that golden web glistening in the sunshine. It’s her hair. She’s beckoning me! Give me the paddles!—the paddles, quick!” And then she cried out with a gasp that sounded very much like a sob: “Save Dorothy!”
CHAPTER XXI.
When John Thorpe left Virginia in search of Mr. Harris, he found him in conversation with Sam, at the foot of the piazza steps. Above them, on the piazza, was seated Mrs. Harris.
“I understand,” remarked Mr. Harris to Sam, “that there was another man in the cabin, but somehow he escaped.”