It must surely be morning soon--he had been there certainly a full night already. Why didn't it grow light?
His eyes closed for a moment--more from exhaustion than sleep--and then they closed again.
Why, what was this?
Here he was safe at home! There was the supper table waiting, and Deb, in her neat, white apron, pouring out the tea! Now they sat down together and began to eat, when, hold up--there was a fire somewhere. Was it in their home? Yes, it must be for the fireman was at the window with a hose--and it was Mr. Gray! The water struck Jack in the ear.
"Help! help! I----"
The young machinist awoke in horror. He had slipped from the rock, and was again being madly whirled down the stream!
Oh! the agony of that moment! Why had he allowed himself to fall asleep?
Nothing but certain death now stared him in the face!
In the dim dawn he looked ahead and saw the line of white that marked the last of the breakwater above the awful descent.
"I'm gone, sure!" he sighed. "Good-by to home and Deb!"