“Well, I’m glad I wasn’t one of them yesterday. Two legs were all I wanted. They ached like thunder and I couldn’t swim a stroke. Nel, you saved my life, and——”
“Cut it out! If any one says anything more about saving lives, I’ll—I’ll hurt them!”
“I dare say it is a bore,” answered Dan soberly, “having folks talk about it, but I want you to know that—that I’m mighty grateful, old fellow, and that if the chance ever comes for me to even things up, why, you can count on your Uncle Daniel. It was a swell thing to do, Nel, stand by me like that, only I wasn’t worth it and you might have got drowned yourself. That’s all. I won’t bother you with any more thanks, only—only—” Dan’s hand found Nelson’s on the coverlid and squeezed it until Nelson winced. Then: “Where’s that fussy old doctor?” he asked. Nelson, relieved at the change of subject, laughed.
“He will be along pretty soon. If you’re all right he’s going to let you get up. Then we can get the afternoon train back.”
“Of course I’m all right; right as a three-legged thingumbob. Say, won’t Clint be waxy? He’ll never let us out of his sight again.”
“I suppose he’ll have to be told?” said Nelson ruefully.
“I guess so; it’s up to us to tell him, Nel. Not that I want to, you know, but—well, it’s more honest.”
“That’s so; I guess we’d better. Say, Dan, these Careys have been mighty good. We’d ought to do something for them. Do you think we could?”
“I’d like to, but I don’t see what we could do. We’ll have to think it over. Maybe Bob can suggest something. He’s got a heap of sense, that chap.”
Then Mr. Carey and the doctor came in and Nelson left the room. Dan was pronounced able to travel, and at two o’clock, after thanking the ladies and promising to come again when they could, they loaded their canoes on to the steam-yacht—the overturned craft had been recovered the evening before—and, with Mr. Carey and Mr. Merrill accompanying, were taken over to The Weirs in time to catch the afternoon train for Warder. At the landing more good-bys were said.