"He is a poet," she thought with a touch of awe. In her simplicity she wrote it all down during the hours of the night, that she might be able to tell him later.
On the second morning, Kitty dozing on a chair beside the bed was startled into complete wakefulness by hearing him say in a weak, natural voice:
"You are real! I thought I had dreamed you!"
"You're better!" cried Kitty overjoyed.
"Is it still up North?" he said wonderingly. "I never expected to see a white girl!"
"There's none but me," said Kitty.
"How did I come here?" he asked.
"I don't know," said Kitty. "You just tumbled in the door."
He told her of his accident.
"The Stanley rapids!" said Kitty. "That is only ten miles up the river. You must have been many days making it!"