Clyde, seated on the platform, his back against the car, nodded silently. His lungs still fought convulsively for air, but the blood was coming slowly back to his white cheeks. Barry, who had displayed no hesitation, felt no fear when he had pulled the other back to safety, now found himself rather faint and wabbly and was glad enough to accept the advice he had offered to Clyde. He crouched by the other for several minutes while the train, meeting stiffer opposition now, labored slowly up the mountain. Finally Clyde gave a long sigh and spoke shakily: “Thanks, Barry. I――I couldn’t have held on another moment.” He shuddered. “Gosh, that was fierce!” “Must have been,” agreed Barry, none too firmly. “All right now?” “In a minute,” Clyde muttered. “My arm――” With a trembling hand he explored his right shoulder. “I guess it won’t be much good for a while. I had my whole weight on it, you see. I couldn’t get hold of anything with the other hand. Just dangled there. Couldn’t have held much longer. Afraid to drop. Kept thinking of the wheels. Ugh!” “Better forget it now and come inside,” said Barry. “Fellows will be wondering where you are.” “Rather they didn’t know, Barry. You won’t say anything? Don’t believe any one saw, eh? I’ll stay here. We’ll be there in a few minutes. I’m all right now, but――I’d rather not go inside.” He took a deep breath and attempted a smile. Barry wished there weren’t the matter of that letter between them. He wanted to speak warmly, but he couldn’t. All he could do was to ask carelessly: “Want me to bring you some water?” Clyde seemed not to notice anything lacking in the other’s voice or manner. He shook his head. “I’m all right,” he repeated. “Just want to sit still a minute longer.” Barry started to scramble up, but Clyde went on with: “I guess it’s even-Steven now, Barry. Fifty-fifty, eh? I saved your life that time and now you’ve saved mine. Funny!” “Well, you might have rolled clear of the wheels,” replied Barry, unemotionally. “Not a chance! I’d have hit the bank and rolled right under. I’m sure of it. Well――” Clyde drew another long breath――“well, I didn’t, old man, and you’re to thank for it.” A hand groped for Barry’s and Barry took it. Clyde’s clasp was almost painful. “Thanks,” he said simply. “That’s――all right.” Barry climbed hurriedly to his feet. “I’d better go back,” he muttered. “There’s the whistle now.” Larry Smythe turned from the contemplation of the scenery and gave Barry a long questioning stare. “You’re a real fresh-air fiend,” he observed. “What have you been doing out there? Counting cinders? You’ve collected a good many, by the way.” Barry laughed and tugged at his suit-case. “Guess we’re about there, Larry,” he said. “Get a move on you!”