“Eh?” said the lad, staring confusedly. “Have I been overboard?”
“Well, yes, just a trifle,” replied the doctor.
“Oh yes, I remember now. Ah! Where’s Frank Murray?” cried the lad excitedly.
“Here I am all right!” came from behind him.
“Ah!” ejaculated the half insensible lad, and he gave vent to a deep sigh of relief and closed his eyes. “I was afraid that—that—”
“But I am all right, Dick,” cried Murray, catching the speaker by the hand.
“Ah, that’s right. I was afraid—somehow—I thought you were drowned.”
“There, there,” cried the doctor, bending over the lad and patting his shoulder, “nobody has been drowned, and you are all right again, so I want you to get below and have a good towelling and then tumble into some dry things while I mix you up a draught of— What’s the matter now?”
Roberts had suddenly sprung up into a sitting position, as if the doctor’s last words had touched a spring somewhere in the lad’s spine.
“Nothing, sir—nothing,” he cried excitedly. “I’m all right again now. I recollect all about it, and how Frank Murray saved my life.”