"You saved my life," she said, "and I will never, never forget it."
The words were music in his ears, but he modestly protested that the services he had rendered were his duty, and nothing more.
"No! No!" she exclaimed. "You and I have been too near death's door to hold any reserve between us. You saved my life, and to my dying day I will love you for it, and pray to my God that he will reward your courage and goodness."
Ben actually thought then and there that it was worth a dozen wrecks, and a score of close calls from the Great Reaper to earn such a reward.
"I was fortunate in having the opportunity to do you a service," he gallantly replied; "pray do not again mention it. I suppose there are houses in the vicinity, and if you will wait here I will make a search for a road."
"No, rather let me go with you. It is so lonely here and I am chilled;" and the unfortunate young lady's teeth chattered in verification of the last statement.
In spite of her protests, Ben took off his coat, and wringing the water out of it as thoroughly as he could, wrapped it around his fair companion's shoulders. Then confidingly nestling her hand in his the castaways started on a voyage of discovery.
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE CASTAWAYS.
Their walk was not a long one. Forcing themselves through a thicket of young cottonwoods, that scarce reached above Ben's head, a few rods brought them to water on the opposite side.