emerged suddenly into their sight, somebody plunged through the shallow breakers and fell gasping on the beach. In a moment the tall, sprawling figure was up and running through the sand toward Captain Saulsby. It was indeed Johann, trembling, breathless, sobbing, his face like chalk and his eyes burning.
“Captain Saulsby,” he cried, then stumbling, dropped on his knees in the sand. He clung to the old man’s coat crying out again and again, “I will not go, I will not go.”
In a moment of quiet they heard the oars dipping again as the boat followed him in shore.
“Don’t let them take me away,” cried Johann wildly. They all stared at each other and at the vague shape moving toward them through the dark. What was to be done?
It was Billy who, in that extremity, had a sudden inspiration. He had trodden on the Captain’s match box in the sand and had perhaps caught his idea from that. In a second he had run to the nearest heap of driftwood, had struck a match and kindled a little struggling flame.
“Quick, Sally,” he directed, “take these and
