"What was it?" asked Dave eagerly. "Was there a note pinned to my dress? I suppose I must have worn dresses, if I was so little at the time?"
"Yes, you wore dresses," the ranchman said, with a far-off look in his eyes. He was struggling to recall the dim and distant past. "Yes, you had on a dress. I think it must have been white at the start, but the muddy water had stained it a dark brown. But there was no note or anything like that pinned to it. I looked for that. But you did have on something that perhaps might prove a clew."
"What was it?" asked Dave eagerly.
"It was a sort of life-preserver," said the cattle man. "At least I took it to be that.
"A life-preserver!" echoed Dave.
"Well, maybe I'm wrong about it, for I never had much to do with water or the sea," admitted Mr. Carson. "But it was some sort of a cork jacket. It was made from a lot of bottle corks, all strung together, and wound around in a sort of belt."
"They don't make life-preservers that way," said Dave, who had been on a trip East, and had seen the life-saving apparatus on a steamer. "A life-preserver is made from broad sheets of cork, sometimes granulated, and pressed together. I never heard of one being made of corks from bottles strung together."
"Well, that's what you had on," said the ranchman. "Maybe it was a home-made one. Come to think of it, that's probably what it was. I reckon it saved your life, too, for though you were on a pretty big piece of wreckage, you looked as though the waves had washed up over you a number of times. Yes, that home-made cork life-preserver undoubtedly saved you."
"What became of it?" asked Dave. "I suppose you threw it away. You must have had your hands full, looking after a small baby."
"Why, no, I didn't throw it away," said Mr. Carson slowly. "I sort of had an idea it might prove a relic, so I kept it."