Yet there could be no doubt of it. As he stood there, amid the awed natives, and looked forward, he saw the beloved faces—faces he had feared he would never see again.
“Father! Mother!” he cried, and then he ran forward.
From the little knot of castaways two figures detached themselves—a man and a woman. Wonderingly they looked toward Tom. Then the man cried:
“It’s Tom! It’s our son! Oh, how did he ever get here?”
The woman answered:
“It can’t be possible! You’re dreaming, Brokaw! Tom could never be here. Our minds must be wandering!”
“And I say it’s Tom!” declared the man. “Tom! Tom!” he called. “Is it really you?”
“It is, father! Oh, are you all right? Have the natives hurt you? I’ve come to rescue you!”
“Thank the dear Lord!” ejaculated Mr. Fairfield. His wife said nothing. She was crying on his shoulder.