"It was murder," said Harry, at last finding strength to speak.
"Murder!" exclaimed the man and boy together.
"Yes, murder, that is, an attempt at it. A man set upon me to kill me, and in the struggle we fell in the river, which, with your help, saved my life. Look here!"
He tore open his coat and shirt, revealing his chest, which looked like pounded beef.
"Somebody has shorely been gettin' in good hard licks on you," said the man sympathetically, "an' I reckon you're tellin' nothin' but the truth, these bein' such times as this country never heard of before. My name's Sam Jarvis, an' I came with this raft from the mountains. This lunkhead here is my nephew, Ike Simmons. We was driftin' along into Frankfort as peaceful as you please, an' a singin' with joy 'cause our work was about over. I hears a splash an' says I to Ike, 'What's that?' Says he to me, 'I dunno.' Says I to Ike ag'in, 'Was it a big fish?' Says he to me ag'in, 'I dunno.' He's gittin' a repytation for bein' real smart 'cause he's always sayin, 'I dunno,' an' he's never wrong. Then I sees somethin' with hair on top of it floatin' on the water. Says I, 'Is that a man's head?' Says he, 'I dunno.' But he reaches away out from the raft, grabs you with one hand by them brown locks o' yours, an' hauls you in. I guess you owe your life all right enough to this lunkhead, Ike, my nephew, the son o' my sister Jane."
Ike grinned sympathetically.
"Ain't it time to offer him some dry clothes, Uncle Sam?" he asked.
"Past time, I reckon," replied Jarvis, "but I forgot it askin' questions, me havin' such an inquirin' turn o' mind."
Harry rose, with the help of a strong and friendly hand that Jarvis lent him. His chest felt dreadfully sore. Every breath pained him, and all the strength seemed to have gone from his body.
"I don't know what became o' the other feller," said Jarvis. "Guess he must have swum out all by hisself."