I've raised all the folks I could get a-holt of an' Bob Morton's gone
to get more. They'll be here on the double quick!"
The boast was no idle one. Even as he spoke there was a tramping, a
rush of feet, and a babel of confused, frightened voices, and into the
room flocked the dwellers of the hamlet,--men, women, and children, all
with wind-tossed hair and strained, terrified faces.
"What is it?"
"What's the matter?"
"Where's the wreck?"
As they stood there tragic in the dim light, there was a stir near the
door and Sarah Libbie Lewis pushed her way through the crowd.
She had stopped only to toss a black shawl over her head and in
contrast to its sable folds her cheeks and lips were ashen.
"They told me there was a wreck," she cried, rushing to Jack's side and
seizing his arm wildly. "Oh, you won't go--you won't go and leave me
now, Jack--not so soon--not after to-night!"
Already sobs were choking the words and her hands were clinging to his.
With the supreme defiance of a man prepared to defend his dearest
possession against the universe, Jack Nickerson circled her in his
embrace and faced the throng.
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