"Alive and well—thanks to you, old man." Holt seized the proffered hand and began to pump it. "And you!" he continued. "Think of it! You! I saw about your luck in the papers, and I meant to write. Upon my soul, I did. I don't know how it was I didn't——"
"Oh, that's all right."
"But I was glad. I never was so glad. And you're here—here in little old New York?"
"So it seems."
"For good? Of course it is. Everybody comes here to spend his money."
"Well, I hope it's not for harm."
Holt ceased pumping, dropped the hand, put both his hands on Stainton's shoulders, and held him at arm's length.
"Great Scott, but it's good to see you again," he said. "Five years, isn't it?"
"All of that."
"And then I was out there in the last of the Wild and Woolly, and we were sworn brother-adventurers and all that, and you saved my life——"