“Who,” asked Joyce as the three stood watching the sun go down over the bay, “wrote those notes to Grace Palmer?”
“No one knows,” was Johnny’s reply. “Perhaps none of us ever will know. Some enemy of Greasy Thumb, perhaps. Every bad man has his enemies. And they are, more often than not, his undoing.”
For a time after that there was silence. Then, as she laid a hand gently on a shoulder of each of her companions, the girl spoke again:
“When do we go back?”
“We don’t go back.” Johnny’s voice was husky. “We go on into the silent north, perhaps. It may be that we shall find a land where men are just and merciful and kind.”
“Is there such a land?” she whispered.
“Who knows, unless he goes to see?”
Did they go on? Or did they go back? If you wish to know, you will find the answer in our next book entitled: Riddle of the Storm.
Transcriber’s Notes
- Copyright notice provided as in the original—this e-text is public domain in the country of publication.
- Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard (or amusing) spellings and dialect unchanged.
- In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.)