Poor old Milt, indeed! When he finally opened his eyes, he was lying on his blankets on a flat rock, and Jonas and Harden, still dripping, were finishing the fastenings of a rude splint around his left leg. Enoch was kindling a fire. Forrester and Agnew were unloading the Ida. He tried to sit up.
"What the deuce happened?" he demanded.
"That's what we want to know!" exclaimed Harden cheerfully.
"You had a dizzy attack after you pulled Forr in," said Enoch, "and rolled off the boat. Just how you broke your leg, we don't know."
"Broke my leg!" Dismay and disbelief struggled in Milton's face.
"Broke my leg! Why, but I can't break my leg!"
"That's good news," said Agnew unsmilingly, "and it would be important if it were only true."
"But I can't!" insisted Milton. "What becomes of the work?"
"The work stops till you get well." Harden stood up to survey his and Jonas's surgical job with considerable satisfaction. "We'll hurry on down to the Ferry and get you to a doctor."
Milton sank back with a groan, then hoisted himself to his elbow to say:
"You fellows change your clothes quick, now."