"I'll never forget this of you, Mac!" he ejaculated as he passed the medical student.
Fred had already come half to himself when they laid him on the bank. He had not swallowed much water, but had been merely knocked senseless by concussion with a boulder.
"What's—matter?" he muttered faintly, opening his eyes.
"Keep quiet. You fell in the river. Mac fished you out," said Horace.
Fred blinked about vaguely, half-attempted to rise and fell back.
"Gracious! What a head I've got!" he muttered dizzily.
They carried him up to the camp, put him on the blankets and examined his cranium. The back of his neck was skinned, there was a bleeding cut on the top of his head and a big bruise on the back, but Mac pronounced none of these injuries at all serious. While they were examining him Fred opened his eyes again.
"Fished me out, Mac? Guess you saved my life," he murmured.
"That's all right, old fellow," replied Peter; and then he gave a sudden start.
"The canoe!"