Like rats swarming from the hold of a burning ship, men and women were pouring from the forest, running toward the lake. Between two rough and bearded men was a tall familiar figure.
“Darry!” cried Jessie, in a tone that mounted above the roaring of the fire. “It is Darry! Can’t you see?”
CHAPTER XXII
THE ESCAPE
There was a sudden commotion in the motley crowd. The tall figure between the two rough-looking men wrenched suddenly free, and dashed, head down, toward the lake.
One or two made a faint-hearted attempt to stop him, put out a hand or a leg to trip him. The men who had been his captors started in pursuit, but the hot breath of the fire enveloped them and drove them toward the safety of the water.
Darry—for there was no doubt now that it was he—kept on running in the direction of the lodge, and the girls and boys, forgetful of everything but joy at the sight of him, dropped everything and ran to meet him.
It was Amy who reached him first, and she flung herself into his arms and clung to him, sobbing hysterically.
“Darry, Darry, where have you been? We thought they had killed you! We looked for you everywhere!”
Darry patted her reassuringly and gently unclasped her arms from about his neck. The others had reached them by this time and had flung themselves upon Darry with a score of eager questions.
He held them off laughingly and motioned toward the scene of the fire.