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Daniel at last stood still. The dog lay down between them and looked appealingly, first at one and then at the other, as if he wished to beg them to remain together. Again Daniel started, but the dog went through the same antics. A half hour passed in this way. At last Daniel said: “I really don’t know what to do. I love this dog, but I would like you to have him, too; but I can’t let you take him, for he belongs to my father. Come with me, and let him decide who shall have the dog.”

They walked together along the lamp-lighted streets, and the happy dog, with leaps and barks, gave evidence of his great joy.

CHAPTER V

THE OLD MAN

Mr. Trent and his wife had delayed the evening meal, awaiting Daniel’s return. Daniel led the strange man into the dining-room, where the table was spread with a beautiful white cloth, relieved by polished silver and food temptingly arranged. It was a welcome sight to the travel-weary old man.

Mr. Trent was about to reprimand his son for his belated return, but he hesitated at the sight of the stranger. Daniel related the incidents of the evening, and they amply served to excuse him for his tardiness. Mr. Trent then asked the old man what he knew about the dog.

Mr. Swift related at length the same story that he had told Daniel; and added that his losses were great, but that the loss of his baby boy had given him the greatest pain in his life.

Mr. Trent and his wife both came to the conclusion, in a flash, that the babe which they had adopted was most assuredly this man’s son. Mr. Trent, a clever, as well as a careful man, wished to probe the matter to his entire satisfaction, so he dismissed Daniel on some errand. Then he questioned the stranger, as to his name, his place of residence, the year and the month and all circumstances surrounding that dreadful night, in minutest detail.

“Tell me,” said he, “did your dog wear a collar?”

“O yes,” said the old man, “it was made of red leather, and engraved on a metal plate was his name Rover, and the letters J. M. S., which stand for my name, Joseph Martin Swift.”

“Now,” said Mrs. Trent, “will you describe the cradle?”

“Very well,” said the man, “it was made of pine wood. The body was painted blue and it had a red canopy.”

Mr. and Mrs. Trent looked deeply into the old man’s eyes, and found in his face, looking through the wrinkles which deep sorrow and care had chiseled there, a remarkable resemblance to their adopted son.

“I have no further doubt,” said Mr. Trent, “that the son who thirteen years ago, as a tender babe, floated in its cradle down the Rhine, was saved from the flood, and lives today.”

“How, what?” cried the man in joyful astonishment. “Oh, where is he? Where is he? Lead me to him at once.”

“You have already seen him,” said Mr. Trent. “The young man who brought you here is your son.”

“What?” cried the old man, “that handsome young lad. Could it he possible? Oh, how miraculous!” He folded his hands and stood in silence, till his overwrought feelings broke forth in a torrent of tears. At last he said: “How was he saved? How did he reach this house and these good circumstances?”

Mr. Trent related everything in a few words: how the faithfulness of the dog had been the first means toward the rescue of the infant. “We took your child, adopted him and brought him up. He always behaved well and has given us great joy. As we did not know his name, we had him renamed Daniel. We never let him know that he was not our own child. We must now disclose this fact to him. I hear him coming and will ask you to withdraw to the next room until you recover yourself.”