muttered, giving the dog a kick. But Bounder
blinked indifferently as the coming boat drew near and nearer.

Every boy, woman, and child, with the old men and lazy young ones, were
at the wharf when the launch emerged from the darkness. Some one was
standing up guiding the boat, ready to protect it from violent contact;
some one was huddled on the floor of the boat--some one who made no cry,
did not look up. They two were all! Just then a lurid flash of lightning
seemed to photograph the scene forever on the minds of the onlookers.

Ledyard, with Dick, was close to the boat when it touched the dock. By
the lurid light of electricity the face of the man in the launch rose
sharply against the darkness and for one instant shone as if to attract
attention.

Farwell was known by reputation to the doctor; he had probably been seen
by him many times, but certainly his face had never made an impression
upon him before. But now, in the hour of anguish and excitement, it held
Ledyard's thought to the exclusion of everything else.

"Who? where?" The questions ran through his mind and then, because every
sense was alert, he knew!

"Jerry-Jo!" Dick was calling, "where are the others?"

It was a mad question, but the boy, huddling in the launch, replied
quiveringly:

"Gone! gone to the bottom off Dreamer's Rock."

Then he began to whimper piteously.

A shuddering cry rang out. It was Mary McAdam, who, followed by her dog,
ran wildly, apron over head, toward the White Fish Lodge.

Farwell, casting all reserve aside, worked with Ledyard over the
prostrate Jerry-Jo. The recognition was no shock to him; he had always
known Ledyard; had cleverly kept from his notice heretofore, but now the
one thing he had hoped to escape was upon him, and he grew strangely
indifferent to what lay before.

He obeyed every command of the doctor as they sought to restore Jerry-Jo.
More than once their eyes met and their hands touched, but the contact
did not cause a tremor in either man.

When the inevitable arrives a strength accompanies it. Nature rarely
deserts either friend or foe at the critical moment.

CHAPTER VI

The bay was dragged, various methods being used, but the bodies of Sandy
and Tom McAdam were not recovered. Mary McAdam with strained eyes and
rigid lips waited at the wharf as each party returned, and when at last
hope died in her poor heart, she set about the doing of two things that
she felt must be done.

The