She threw on the body of her dress; and, her long yellow hair--which she had in default of better means been trying to comb out with a bit of wood--streaming behind her, she took the child by the hand, and flew as fast as she could go down the little rocky promontory off which Bill and Johnnie had met their end.

Before she got half-way down it, she saw that the child's tale was true--for there, sailing right up the fjord from the open sea, was a large vessel.

She was not two hundred yards from where she stood, and her canvas was being rapidly furled preparatory to the anchor being dropped.
Thanking Providence for the sight as she never thanked anything before, Augusta sped on till she got to the extreme point of the promontory, and stood there waving Dick's little cap towards the vessel, which moved slowly and majestically on, till presently, across the clear water, came the splash of the anchor, followed by the sound of the fierce rattle of the chain through the hawse-pipes.

Then there came another sound--the glad sound of human voices cheering.

She had been seen.
Five minutes passed, and then she saw a boat lowered and manned.