“Barney!” gasped the professor.
“Yes, back from the dead!”
“Massy sakes, it am his ghostis!” cried Pomp, in terror. “Don’ go ober dere, Marse Frank!”
“Don’t be a fool!” cried Frank, angrily. “Come along, both of you!”
Gaston followed Frank instantly.
Barney it was, and but just alive. The Celt was covered with a coating of ice.
The man with him was shrunken to a shadow, with pale, cadaverous features. He could hardly creep along and blood marked his course over the snow.
“Barney!” cried Frank, rushing up to the spot. “Thank God you are alive! How did you come here, and who is this?”
“Begorra, Misther Frank, it’s a long swim I had!” replied Barney. “An’ it’s nigh dead I am wid me wet clothes. Shure, we’ll tell yez all about it whin we get warm!”
“Help us, for the love of God!” said the pallid wretch in a whisper.