That this thought was in the hunchback’s mind soon became evident. He began hugging the shore.
So intent were they upon reaching a place of safety that they failed to note a picture framed in fog that for ten seconds flashed into view, then was lost forever.
Without knowing why they did so, both Faye Duncan and her grandfather stood upon the bank as they passed. It was Faye’s keen eyes that caught sight of the racing dugout.
“Look!” she cried, quite beside herself. “Johnny, Johnny Longbow and the great banshee!” She was quite beside herself with excitement.
“Calm yourself,” said Gordon Duncan. “You must be dreaming. A bad dream. I see nothing.”
“I did see them!” she insisted vehemently. “They passed, they passed in the fog!”
“Then,” said Gordon Duncan, “we shall doubtless see them later.”
“But will we? They are riding the flood. The ice jamb is gone. But there may be others. And, he is with that terrible creature.”
“Humanity,” said Gordon Duncan quietly, “is everywhere very much alike. He is in God’s hands. Beyond doubt the All Seeing One has provided him a friend in this vast wilderness.”
“And to think,” said the girl more calmly, a great joy expressed in her tones, “he is alive! He is not dead. Johnny Longbow is not dead!”