Mr. Weevil seemed really sorry that he had not given a thought to Paul's condition before. Paul hastened off to change his damp cloth for dry ones. While he was thus engaged, Plunger and Baldry entered for the same purpose. Otherwise they seemed none the worse for the cold bath. Plunger, in fact had got on good terms with himself again, and was as perky as ever.
"I should have punted across the river all right if it hadn't been for Hibbert," he explained. "The scream he gave threw me off my stroke. It was jolly good of you all the same to come to us, Percival. We shan't forget it in a hurry—shall we, Baldry?"
"No," was Baldry's emphatic answer. "By the by, how is Hibbert going on?"
"I was just going to ask the same thing. I would rather have gone under myself than that he should. Has the doctor been to him?"
Plunger spoke with unusual earnestness.
"Yes, Dr. Clack's been to him. He's with him now."
"And what does he say?"
"He says that it's been a near thing, but with careful nursing he may pull round."
Plunger paused with one arm in the sleeve of the jacket he was putting on, and sat down on the side of the bed. He was beginning to realize how near the Crusoe expedition had been to a tragedy—nay, the danger was not yet over. Silence fell on the room for some moments. Each was busy with his own thoughts.
"I haven't yet heard how it all happened," Paul at length inquired.