“That you can’t help, my friend,” replied the captain, “and it is a chance that we took with our eyes open.”
“Can’t we take a letter for you to your family?” asked Sidney.
“I shan’t give you a letter; that would only get you into trouble; but when you reach London, I’ll be grateful if you will go to see my wife, at No. 18, Southampton Row, Russell Square. You can tell her just what has happened to me, and where you left me, and that will be a great comfort to her.”
“I will do that, certainly,” said Sidney.
The boys had no further opportunity for conversation with Captain Foster, for men came to take them to a separate room. And in the morning they had only a glimpse of their benefactor before they were put aboard a train at Pola for the Italian frontier, where they would transfer to another train for Genoa.
“Gee! Sid,” said Raymond, when they were speeding along in the train, “this beats tramping over the Caucasus.”
“It sure does,” replied Sidney, “and I guess we’ve done our last tramping this trip.”
“It really looks now,” said Raymond, “as though we were going to see mother, after all. When we were on that raft I thought we never should again.”
“And I hope we’ll find father with her in New York,” said Sidney.
THE END