They waited, it seemed interminably, until at last a white hull slowly rounded the point, then shaped a course across the current towards the other bank, where the water was less swift. As it came fully into sight, Gale swore aloud in despair:
"It's the Mission boat!"
"Well, what of that?" said Burrell. "We'll hire it—buy it—take it!"
"It's no use; she ain't got but three dog-power to her engines," Lee explained. "She's a down-river boat—has to run with the current to move."
"We can't use her," Gale gave in, reluctantly. "She'd only lose time for us. We've got to wait for one of the A. C. boats."
"Wait!" cried Burrell. "Good God! we've done nothing but wait, WAIT, WAIT! Let's do something!"
"You go back yonder and set down," commanded Lee. "We'll have a boat before long."
The arrival of the tiny Mission steamer was never of sufficient importance to draw a crowd to the riverbank, so the impatient men at the post relaxed interest in her as she came creeping up abreast of the town. It was little Johnny Gale who first saw Necia and Poleon on board, for he had recognized Father Barnum's craft at a distance, and stationed himself at the bank hand-in-hand with Molly to bid the good, kind old man welcome.
The men inside the house did not hear the boy crying Necia's name, for his voice was small, and they had gone to the rear of the store.
"Understand! You leave Runnion to me," Burrell was saying. "No man shall lay hands on him except me—" His voice trailed away; he rose slowly to his feet, a strange light on his face. The others turned to see what sight had drawn his eyes. In the opening, all splendid with the golden sunlight, stood Necia and Poleon Doret, who had her by the hand—and she was smiling!