“Ya, it may be so.”
“Why did you say that? Was it true?”
“Perhaps ya. Perhaps no,” was the strange answer, “dese is been hard times. Might be we old men think too many t’ings.” At that the old man disappeared as silently as usual into the night, leaving the girl with her own thoughts.
CHAPTER XXIII
DON’T STAY TOO LONG
All that night it rained, a slow, steady downpour. The wind that for weeks had been driving the fire forward shifted. It was now driving the fire back against itself. Everyone agreed that the battle was won. There was great rejoicing on the island. The whole country received the glad report by newspaper and radio.
Tim O’Hara, in his New York radio tower, at once got off a wire to Florence.
“Congratulations. Stop. Have set your appearance on our program for next Tuesday. Stop. Ticket will await you at Houghton.
Signed, Tim O’Hara.”
“He wants me to come to New York,” Florence exclaimed. “New York,” she repeated softly. “He wants me to tell the story of our fight to save the island, tell it on his Adventurer’s Club radio program. Just think! Coast to coast! Millions of people will hear. Shall I go?”
“Go?” Dave roared. “Of course you’ll go. Finest publicity in the world for our island. And think of the time you’ll have!”
“And I shall go with you,” said Jeanne.