And daddy’s eyes opened at the words,—eyes that were no longer burning, but soft and dim with tears.
“Not dead, little Boy Blue! Daddy is alive again,—alive as he has not been for long, long years.—Tell him all, Tom. I am too weak. Tell him all. He’ll be glad to hear it, I know.”
But Father Tom only put his arm around the boy and drew him close to his side.
“Why should I?” he said, smiling into the upturned face. “We know quite enough for a little boy; don’t we, Freddy,—that, like another wanderer from his Father’s house, daddy was dead and is alive again, was lost and is found. And now get into some short clothes, if you can find them, and we’ll go over to Killykinick in my little motor boat; for poor Brother Bart is in sad terror about you, I am sure.”
Ah, in sad terror, indeed! It was a pale, shaken old man that stood on the beach at Killykinick, looking over the sea, and listening to the Captain, who was striving to find hope where he felt there was none.
“Looks as if the old cabin on Last Island might be holding together still. Dan and Neb are knocking a raft together, and if they can make it float they’ll go over there and get the little lad off. And if they don’t Padre” (the rough old voice trembled),—“if they don’t, wal, you are sky pilot enough to know that the little chap has reached a better shore than this.”
“Aye, aye, I know, Jeroboam!” was the hoarse, shaken answer. “God knows what is best for His little lamb. His holy will be done. But, O my laddie, my little laddie, why did I let you go from me into the darkness and storm, my little boy, my little boy?”
“Hooray! Hooray!” Wild shouts broke in upon the broken-hearted prayer, as Jim and Dud and Dan burst round the bend of the rocks. “Brother Bart, Brother Bart! Look what’s coming, Brother Bart!”
And, turning his dim eyes where the boys pointed, Brother Bart saw a little motor boat making its swift way over the still swelling waves. On it came, dancing in the sunlight arched by the rainbow, tossing and swaying to the pulse of the sea; and in the stern, enthusiastically waving the little signal flag that Ford had put into his hand to remember the life-savers, sat—
“Laddie!” burst from Brother Bart’s lips, and he fell upon his knees in thanksgiving. “O God be praised and blessed for the sight! My laddie,—my own little laddie safe, safe,—my laddie coming back to me again!”