The ice in the creek was breaking up and running out fast. The creek, fed by the rivulets of the wood, was swollen now so as to make crossing by boat comparatively easy. This accomplished, Boy led Colonel Hallibut up to the house.
“Come in,” he invited.
The Colonel stepped inside and bowed low to the body of astonished people who watched him. Boy waved his hand for silence, then he stated the true facts of the case.
“Now,” he cried, “let every man shake hands with Colonel Hallibut.”
They surged about the big man joyfully. Hands were extended, and the Colonel with a laugh made as though to speak, but, instead, he stood gazing across at a tall girl clad in soft deerskin skirt and jacket. She was gazing back at him from eyes he had known long years ago in that playground far back.
“So like!” he whispered. “Same face, same hair, same great, glorious eyes!”
He leaned against the wall, trembling.
“Phoebe,” he said at length, and held out his arms.
Gloss leaned toward him.
“That was my mother’s name,” she said. “Did—did you know my mother, sir? See, this is her likeness in this little locket about my neck.”