Latham looked quickly about. "And how few return to the south," he said.
"To-morrow, likely enough, old boy"—Geoff addressed the stone tower which his hand touched—"you'll see the Viborg come in sight down there where you first saw Frobisher, Baffin, Davis and the rest of the fellows who wanted to see what's up there in the ice. You ought to know by this time who's coming back. Are we coming back or not?"
"Shut up!" Latham stopped him. "You're not only foolish; you're dismal"; and he pointed toward Margaret.
She laughed. "I was thinking about the same thing," she said. "If these stones could tell the stories of the ships they've seen pass by! If they could tell only the story of the old Norsemen who lived here and then disappeared!"
"They're flying some signal on the Inca," Latham said, his glasses to his eyes.
"The recall to dinner." Geoff looked at his watch. "Let's beat it back. Evening dress, Meg, to-night for the last time and champagne and anchovy and a steward behind your chair."
