King awoke with a start. He had been sleeping very soundly, and at first, after he had opened his eyes, he had difficulty in bringing his senses to bear directly on what had disturbed him. The faint grey dawn was already at the window. Somewhere there had been a thumping and—the sound of a voice that, even to his sleep-fogged consciousness, was vaguely familiar.
For a moment he waited, sitting up in his bunk and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Suddenly the thumping was repeated—someone was at the door. Then he heard his name called and the sound of the voice brought him to his senses at once. It was the voice of Cherry McBain.
In an instant he was at the door.
"What's wrong?" he asked excitedly.
Cherry's voice was full of alarm. "Get dressed quickly, King," she replied. "We want you."
King hurried into his clothes, and going to the door again shot the wooden bar back from its socket and threw the door open. A very light drizzling rain was still falling, and Cherry shook the wet wrap from her head and shoulders as she stepped through the doorway. In his hurry King had not taken time to light the lamp, but even in the darkness he could see the expression of fear on her face. Without waiting to close the door he placed an arm about her shoulders and drew her towards him.
"Oh, King!" she cried, "it's come—it's come!"
He did not need to ask what had come. He knew. Leading her gently to a seat he left her, and sitting down on the edge of his bunk, drew on his boots and laced them hurriedly. Then he got up quickly and throwing on his coat, took his hat and turned to Cherry.
"All right—I'm ready," he announced.
Cherry got up from her seat and moved towards the door. She had not spoken while King was completing his preparations to go out, and he knew that she had been weeping silently.