But Smith knew what she meant. And he touched her arm.
"Come, Kitty."
Even as he spoke he stayed
"What is that on the bank, Kitty?" he asked.
For, two hundred yards away, there was a black spot on the white sand.
"It looks like a body," said Kitty with a shiver.
And they went slowly towards the stream, wondering what this could be. Was the dead man black or white? It might mean so much to them. It might mean further hazard, or strange, quick release from all their anxiety. But suddenly, when they came upon the level ground, Kitty loosed her hold of Smith, and ran along the river's edge like a deer. Smith stopped, and then ran, too.
Was it possible—possible?
Yes, it was possible. For Kitty had the Baker's head against her bosom, and she was crying over him like a mother.
He was still alive.