“All’s well that ends well.” But it might not have been so well. The full story of that night’s work did not transpire at once. All that Mrs. Stark knew was that she had her son once more within her close embrace; that he had been helped, even carried, up the narrow pier and placed dripping within her arms. She ascribed his soaked condition to the fact of the fog and not to the truth; and it was not until daylight came that he told her that. Then lying warm in his bed, with her hovering over him in a flutter of delight and reproof, he announced:
“I tell you, Mamma, the only folks that amount to anything in this world are the poor ones!”
“Very likely, love, very likely. Only don’t distress yourself any more. I can’t forgive that wretched little bugling boy for taking you out in that horrible boat and nearly killing you. You’re very apt to have pneumonia or something—Don’t you feel pretty ill now?”
“Mamma, you can’t forgive him? What do you mean? Didn’t anybody tell?”
“Tell what, lovey. I certainly didn’t stop to ask questions. All I cared for was to get you into bed and a warm breakfast or supper or whatever it is sent up.”
“Then you don’t know that but for Melvin Cook I should be lying at the bottom of the Basin now, instead of in this bed?” demanded Monty, raising himself on his elbow.
The pallor that overspread his mother’s face was answer enough, and he blamed himself for the question. Even without knowing the worst truth she had evidently worried herself ill. But the mischief was done and when she asked: “What do you mean?” he thought it best to tell. Moreover he was anxious that she should know of Melvin’s bravery at once. So he answered:
“Well, I made a fool of myself. He had tackle and we fished along, just for nothing hardly, and I got cocky and jiggled the boat. Then when he said I’d better not but ought to lend a hand in working her and ‘learn sense,’ I—Well, I don’t remember exactly what happened after that; only I got up on the gunwale, or edge of the ‘Chicken’ and the next I knew I was in the water. It all came over me in a flash that I couldn’t swim and would drown and I shut my eyes and tried to say a prayer. But I couldn’t think, and then I felt something grab me. It was that Melvin. He’d tossed off his jacket and dove for me and was dragging me to the surface and the boat. I tried to get hold of him tighter but he kicked me off and said if I did that we’d both go down. I thought we would, anyhow, so I did let go and then he got me to the boat, yanking me by the collar and—that was all for a good while. I—I was pretty sick I guess. I’d swallowed so much salt water and all. He and Tommy rubbed me and jounced me around and paid no attention to the boat, that kept drifting further out all the time.
“I don’t remember much else. I lay on the bottom of the thing and the boys put their coats over me to stop my shivering. Melvin said afterward that I shivered from fear and shock more than from dripping, too, but he couldn’t stop for that. He had to try to get back to shore and the fog was rising.
“Tommy told me a good deal, later on when I felt better. He said the fog got so thick Melvin was afraid to try and sail lest we should bump into some other craft. So we lay still till—I guess you know the rest. Now I want to hear, has anybody coddled either of those boys—heroes, both of ’em—as you’ve coddled me? If they haven’t been treated right I’ll make it lively for somebody. Anyhow, I want to get up and dress. I’m ashamed of myself. When I see how other boys act I think I’ve been—Well, I won’t call your lovey-dovey hard names! But you hear me say: I’ll be a man after this or—or know the reason why!”