"It's all right, Chester," said the newcomer.
Chester, who had stood as if petrified during the struggle—he was so surprised at this sudden and unexpected aid—uttered an exclamation of surprise.
"Who are you?" he asked, in vain trying to pierce the darkness with his eyes.
The stranger chuckled.
"You don't know, eh?" he asked.
Again Chester peered at him intently. It was so dark he could not make out the man's features, but there was something very familiar about the short, rotund figure that stood before him.
"By Jove!" cried the lad at last. "It is—it can't be—yes, it must be—"
"Anthony Stubbs, war correspondent of the New York Gazette, sir, and very much at your service," came the now well-known voice.
Chester sprang forward and seized the extended hand.
"And what in the name of all that's wonderful are you doing here?" he asked in amazement.