When at last they pulled the insensible man out into the light of day, and found that while his wound, though severe, and if neglected mortal, was not likely to be dangerous with good attention, the captain said that he must be getting about his business.
“Oh, stay a little longer, fellers, till he comes to,” remonstrated Bud. “He’d like to have a chance to say ‘Thank you.’”
“Bugs!” replied the captain. “You tell him he owes us a drink, and as a particular favor to me, please not to put his frames over four foot apart in that ground.
“We’re likely to be back here shortly, anyhow, because I think your friend has got hold of the right idea from what you tell me of his plans; but it’ll take more’n one man to really prospect it. If we don’t hit it where we’re going, we’ll sure come back.”
“Well, boys, I can thank you and I’m going to,” said Bud. “That man is my friend, and if you hadn’t come as you did—”
“Say, let go,” interrupted the captain. “You’d have done the same thing if you’d been us, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” admitted Bud reluctantly.
“And you wouldn’t want to be thanked for it a white chip more’n we do,” concluded the captain. “If there’s any thanks coming it is to that little two-foot chunk of man yonder. Snaking over that fall was a thing to put a crimp in anybody. You was bound to help your pardner, wasn’t you, son?”
The boy looked up into the captain’s eagle face. “I’d ’er got to Jim,” he answered simply, “’f I’d had ter chew me way in like a rat.”
The captain stepped back and looked at him.