CHAPTER XXIV
THREE SMALL SURVIVORS
It did not take Uncle Tom very long, experienced as he was, to bring the three children back to consciousness. As it was, they had been more affected by the cold and the fright than anything else, for the raft, crude as it was, had kept them above the surface of the waves and saved their lives.
As the girls bent over them eagerly, helping Uncle Tom as well as they could, the faint color came back to the pinched little faces, and slowly the children opened their eyes.
“Oh, they are alive, bless ’em,” cried Billie, jumping to her feet. But the quick action seemed to terrify the children, and they cried out in alarm. In a minute Billie was back on her knees beside them, looking at them wonderingly.
“Why, what’s the matter?” she asked, putting out her hand to the little boy, who shrank away from her and raised an arm before his eyes. “Why, honey, did you really think Billie would hurt a nice little boy like you?”
But all three children had begun to cry, and Billie looked helplessly at her chums.
Uncle Tom had spread a large rug on the floor and had laid the children on it while he worked over them. Up to this time he had been on his knees beside the girls, but now he got to his feet and looked down at them soberly.