"A sprain and a bad burn," replied Lorry.
"I remember, now," muttered Matt. "A blazing timber fell from the roof and pinned my arm against the gunwale of the Sprite. It isn't a fracture?"
"Nary, pard," said McGlory. "You were in a heap of luck to get out of that blaze as well as you did."
"I guess that's right. Where am I?"
"In the Lorry home on Fourth Lake Ridge," smiled George. "We took you across the lake to the Yahara Club, and when I called up dad on the phone, and told him what had happened, he insisted on sending the carriage after you. The doctor was here when we arrived. He has patched you up so you'll be as good as new in a week."
"Is Ping all right?"
McGlory chuckled.
"You can't kill a Chink, pard," he answered. "Ping was unconscious, same as you, when we picked up the Sprite, but he drifted back to earth while we were crossing the lake."
"And the Sprite—did she suffer any damage?"
"She's blistered here and there, but otherwise she's just as good as she was when you hit her the last tap."