When he had partly recovered his senses, he looked around him. "Where is my saw?" he questioned, then he added: "My hat, where is it?"
The hat, probably a leaky one, had gone to the bottom.
Frank was as much amused as he was astonished to hear him. He replied: "I suppose they must both be given up as lost."
"It is a pity," said the prostrate man, "it was a good saw, and a brand new one too."
The man spoke in the patois of the island, a kind of old Norman French which the young man understood very well. He, therefore, answered in the same language.
"Shall I go and call your people?" Frank said after a while.
"No, thank you, I think I can walk home."
He stood up and they both proceeded towards the farm-house.
"Not a word of thanks," soliloquized Frank, as he surveyed the strong frame and the powerful limbs of his companion.