Hark! HARK!!
Molly was on her feet now, wider awake than in all her life before, hands clasped to her breast, head bent forward, listening—listening—listening.
“Toot! Toot! Tooty-ti-tooty-ti-toot!”
“A bugle! A bugle! The ‘Assembly!’ First call to meals! Melvin’s coming! Melvin—MELVIN!”
Nearer and nearer it came. It was at hand. On the other side the murmuring stream. On this side. In her very ears; and screaming “Melvin!” with all the agony of fear that she had pent within her brave heart, Molly fell sobbing in the “Bashful Bugler’s” arms.
A few minutes later she was in her father’s; and not long thereafter sat upon his knee before the camp-fire with her head upon his breast and he clasping her close, close in an embrace that held within it almost an agony of joy, so fierce it was.