Norma, studying Rosa’s face, whispered: “Little Rosa has one more secret.” And little Rosa had—just that!
Still the old man and the child lay in the darkness on the great rock, feeling the sound of motors growing louder, ever louder in their ears. Still the old man’s fingers trembled as they gripped the gun that might have spelled death to those shadowy forms on the black waters.
At last the girl whispered, “They’re paddling again! I can hear them, dip-dip-dip. Will they come ashore now? Will you shoot, Grandfather?”
“If they come ashore I will shoot.”
Still, quite breathless, the child lay quiet, tensing as she lost the sound of the paddles. The roar of motors drowned it out. As her eyes searched the waters, it seemed to her that the shadowy forms were fading.
Then she lost interest in the sea, for coming like the wind, were airplanes, good American planes.
“They’re coming to drive the horrible sub and all the bad Gremlins away!” she whispered.
She wanted to leap to her feet and scream, “Hurrah! Hurrah for our planes!” but she dared not.
The planes were not looking for the sub. They had been sent out to find an enemy plane. As if by magic a gray mist came sweeping in from the sea.
“It’s the bad Gremlins.” She spoke aloud at last. “They have hidden those men!”