The sensation of a dipper of salt water being dashed into his face aroused Jack to consciousness. Never had cold seawater felt so pleasant. In spite of the fact that it was all running down his neck and into his shirt, Jack lay still and let himself be deluged again before he opened his eyes and sat up. He was lying in the bottom of the Betsy Anne with Ray and Warden Williams bending over him.
“What do you want to scare a fellow most to death for? Are you all right now, Jack?” asked Ray with great concern.
“Why, why—well, I guess I am— Say give me a dipper full of real water—er—ah, white water—aw, I mean fresh water. I’m as thirsty as a horse and my throat—ugh.” Jack felt tenderly of his neck as he spoke.
“Sure, here you are, son,” said the warden.
Jack drank gratefully. Then as he passed the dipper back to Mr. Williams, he asked:
“Well, did you get Salmon Jack?”
“Did we get him?” exclaimed the warden. “Why, lad, you laid him out so cold he hasn’t come to yet. Though I calculate he will by the time we reach the Pool. He’s over in Milliken’s boat. They’re workin’ on him now. What did you hit him with, son, he’s almost—”
“What did I hit him with? Why, was that Salmon Jack I buckled into?” exclaimed the boy from Drueryville in surprise.
“You bet it was. And it’s a wonder to me he didn’t knife you. We thought he had when we saw the two of you all in a heap on the floor. Guess he didn’t have his dirk with him. What did you hit him with?”