As for Katie, so overcome by emotion was she that for a space of seconds she could not speak. When at last she found her voice, she exclaimed joyously, “It is the Passage Island light. I forgot it. We are almost at the island. Listen—”
As they both listened there came the roar of waters beating on rocks.
“It—it’s terrible,” Florence said in a low, awed tone. “We couldn’t land there. Our boat would be smashed to splinters.”
“No, not there,” Katie agreed. “But on this side there is an entrance. There is a snug little harbor. If only we can find that—”
“Yes, if only we can. We—”
Suddenly Florence’s voice was drowned by a hoarse hoot that filled all the night.
“Oh!” she all but jumped out of the boat. Then she laughed. “The Passage fog horn! I have heard it at a distance.”
“Yes,” Katie agreed, “the light and the horn. They should have been there before.”
“Perhaps something was wrong with their power.”
After that, for some time neither girl spoke. Katie was busy with the oars and Florence with her thoughts. Long thoughts they were, you may be sure.