Rod came very close to him before he spoke again.
"Is that you, John Ball ?" Slowly the kneeling figure turned, and once more Rod saw in those wild eyes, gleaming brightly now in the torch-light, the softer, thrilling glow of recognition and returning reason.

He reached out his own arms and advanced boldly, calling John Ball's name, and the madman made no retreat but crouched lower in the sand, strange, soft sounds again falling from his lips.

Rod had come within half a dozen feet of him when he sprang up with the quickness of a cat, and with a wailing cry plunged waist deep into the water.

With his arms stretched entreatingly into the mysterious world beyond the torch-light he turned his face to the white youth, and Rod knew that he was trying as best he could to tell him something.
"What is it, John Ball ?" He went to the edge of the black water and waded out until it rose to his knees, his eyes staring into the blackness.
"What is it ?" He, too, pointed with one arm, and the madman gave an excited gesture.
Then he placed his hands funnel-shaped to his mouth, as Rod had often seen Wabi and Mukoki do when calling moose, and there burst from him a far-reaching cry, and Rod's heart gave a sudden bound as he listened, for the cry was that of a woman's name! "Dol--o--res-s-s-s--Dol--o--res-s-s-s--" The cry died away in distant murmuring echoes, and with an answering cry Rod shouted forth the name which he fancied John Ball had spoken.
"Dolores! Dolores! Dolores!" There came a sudden leaping plunge, and John Ball was at his feet, clasping him about the knees, and sobbing again and again that name--Dolores.

Rod put his arms about the old man's shoulders, and the gray, shaggy head fell against him.