He paused and listened, afraid to reply and yet on the point of doing so.
At the proper interval the call was repeated, and then, so certain that everything was right was he that, instead of making the proper answer, he called in a guarded undertone:
"Is that yersilf, Whart?"
"It is," was the reply of the delighted friend, and the next minute they were together.
It was a joyous reunion, even though the shadow of great danger rested upon the two youths. Wharton Edwards and Larry Murphy had been separated, seemingly, with slight prospect of ever seeing each other again; they had gone through many perils during the preceding few hours, and at the moment when despair had almost taken possession of both, they clasped hands and stood side by side.
"Are ye sure it's yersilf, Whart?" asked the elder, squeezing the fingers of his friend, who fully reciprocated the warmth of feeling.
"I'm as sure, Larry, as you are that it's you."
"Then we'll consider it settled; and how are ye?" he asked, shaking again the hand which he had not yet released.
"I was never better, and thankful and happy to find you alive when I feared it was all over with you."
"The same to yersilf; and have ye suffered no harrum?"