And now at last the prostrate form appeared to stir. High time, too!
Did he throw out an arm? No. It was but the water lifting the arm.
So this was the end. And such an end for so gallant a soul! Ever striving to be of service. Always on the side of the right. Forever fighting ignorance, cupidity and crime. What a pity! Well, they had got him at last. Put him on the spot, perhaps. Who knows?
The water became deeper. The silent form, even in its defeat, appeared to struggle against death. It rose and sank, rose and sank.
But what is this? Comes a splashing. A figure is approaching, an odd figure, one clothed from head to toe in a long gray coat and a gray cap. His face is all but hidden by this cap and a gray beard.
Had Johnny’s lips moved, they would have said:
“The Gray Shadow.”
They did not move.
And now began one of the grimmest battles ever fought in the dark. From this spot to the main tunnel was but half a block. But there the door was closed. There appeared to remain but one hope, the museum end.
Seeming to realize this the strange being, who appeared possessed of great strength, lifted the boy to his shoulders and began making his way through the flood to that distant goal.