As she went forward on her course, lightning began to show itself frequently in pallid forks on the dark cloud-bank. "If only there's no gale!" she thought. Through these minutes she had been able to distinguish what she supposed was the baby's canoe; but now she lost it. She rowed on at random; then she began to call. Nothing answered. The lightning grew brighter, and she blessed the flashes; they would show her, perhaps, what she was in search of; with every gleam she scanned the lake in a different direction. But she saw nothing. She called again: "Jacky! Jack-y!" A great bird flew by, close over her head, and startled her; its wings made a rushing sound. "Jack-y! Jack-y!" She rowed on, calling loudly. It was now perfectly dark. Presently an unusually brilliant gleam revealed for an instant a dark object on her left. She rowed towards it. "Jacky, speak to Aunty Eve. Aunty Eve is close beside you." She put her whole heart into this cry; then she waited, breathless. From a distance came a sound, the sweetest which Eve Bruce had ever heard. "Ess," said Jack's brave little voice. She tried to row towards it. Before she could reach the spot a wind coming from the south drove her canoe back. "Jacky, Jacky, say yes again." "Ess," said the voice, fainter, and farther away. The wind was stronger now, and it began to make a noise too, as it crossed the lake. "Jacky, Jacky, you _must_ answer me." "Ess." A crashing peal of thunder broke over their heads; when it had ceased, she could hear the poor little lad crying. His boat must have drifted, for his voice came from a new direction. "I am coming directly to you, Jacky," she called, altering her course rapidly. The thunder began again, and filled her ears. When it ceased, all was still. "Jacky! Jacky!" No answer. And now there came another cry: "Eve, where are you? Wait for me." It was Cicely. "This way," called Eve. She never dreamed that Cicely was alone; she supposed that the Irishman had taken heart of grace and ventured back. But presently a canoe touched hers, and there in the night she saw Cicely all alone, like a phantom. "Baby?" demanded Cicely, holding the edge of Eve's boat. "I heard him only a moment ago," answered Eve, as excited as herself. "Jacky! Jacky!" No reply. Then Cicely's voice sounded forth clearly: "It's mamma, Jack. Speak to mamma." "Mam-ma!" came the answer. A distant sound, but full of joy. Eve put her paddle in the water again. "Wait," said Cicely. And she stepped from her canoe into Eve's, performing the difficult feat without hesitation or tremor. The other canoe was abandoned, and Eve was off with a strong stroke. "Call," she said. Cicely called, and Jack answered. "Call again." "His poor little throat will be so tired!" said Cicely, her own voice trembling. "We _must_," said Eve. "Jack-y!" "Ess."