"As for your bundle," said the other, "that will stick upon Winslow wear; and as for your being wet, I could help you to dry clothes if I knew who you were." "Not knowing will not prevent you," rejoined the other. "Winslow wear!--Now I know where I am. I was not aware I had walked so far by seven good miles. Then I must be in Winslow park." "Not far wrong," said the other man; "but you seem to be a somewhat strange lad, and wilful withal. As you have lost your bundle, however, and got your clothes wet, you had better come with me; for after all, I dare say you mean no harm, and I may as well help you to a dry jacket." "I mean no harm to any one," was the reply; "and I think I must stop somewhere near, for my clothes will not dry so soon to-night as they would in the summer sunshine." "Certainly not," answered the other, "there is more chance of saturation than evaporation." The swimmer of the stream turned suddenly and looked at him, in some surprise: then fell into a fit of thought: and in the end, without noticing his companion's fine words observed, "I am not getting any dryer by standing here: and you are getting wetter; for the rain is coming on more fiercely. If you have any will to give me shelter and dry clothes, now is the time. If not, I must go and seek them elsewhere." "Suppose I say you shan't," inquired the other, "what would you do then?" "Walk away," was the answer. "And if I stopped you?" said the other. "Pitch you into the river, and see if you can swim it as well as I did," rejoined the wayfarer. "The chances would be against you, my friend," rejoined his new companion: "we are about the same height and size, I think; and not very different in make. Suppose us equal then in strength. You have, however, taken a walk to-night long enough to make you lose seven miles of your count; you have swam that river in flood, and have lost somewhat of your strength at every mile of the way, and every yard of the water. Your strength and mine then, being at first equal quantities, you must inquire, whether _a_ can be equal to _b_, minus _c_ the walk, and _d_ the stream?" "Yes," answered the other, "for there is one thing you do not take into account." "What is that?" asked the arithmetician. "Despair!" said his new-found friend; "for I tell you fairly, that if you make me try to pitch you into the river, I do not care a straw whether I go in with you or not." "That is a different affair," replied his companion drily; "despair is an unknown quantity, and I have not time to arrive at it; so come along."