"None but friends are around you."
"I saw some one just now move by me."
"It is Pe—a friend."
"Let us go on then. Is this dear, good Frontier Angel here."
"It is to her your life is owing. She is no longer crazy."
"Oh, this must be a dream!" cried Marian, as she was locked in the arms of her devoted friend. "It cannot—cannot be real."
For a few moments nothing but the sobbing of the two was heard. Peterson seemed restless, and moved uneasily but said nothing.
"Let us go," said the Frontier Angel, "for there is a long distance to travel."
The storm had partly ceased, though the wind was stronger than ever. Through the woods again—through swamps and thickets—over brooks and the matted undergrowth—brushing through the dripping bushes—until as the misty light of morning was breaking over the scene, they once more appeared upon the banks of the Ohio, opposite the block-house.