Maseden did not answer at once. He wanted to be quite sure that the wretched throbbing in his head had ceased. Yes; there was a great soreness, but it was of the scalp, not of the internal mechanism. He sat bolt upright.
“Hi!” shouted Sturgess, “you mustn’t do that! Gosh! The doctor man will raise Cain with me if he knows I let you move.”
“I’m all right, C. K.”
“You’re going to flatten out straight away, or I’ll shriek for help.”
Maseden lay down. The dominant emotion of the moment was curiosity. Perhaps, if he kept quiet, Sturgess would talk.
At any rate, the New Yorker was much relieved, and said so.
“You’ve nearly hopped it,” he explained anxiously. “It was a case of touch and go with you for two days, and—”
“Two days!” gasped Maseden. “Have I been stretched here two days?”
“And more. We were picked up by the Valentia on Thursday evening, and now it is Sunday morning.”