The cry now reached him plainly, borne on the rushing wind, and told of succor near at hand. He had lost all sense of direction, nor did he try to recognize the voice. His first sensation was one of mild annoyance. It seemed so silly to bother about rescuing him now. He was sure that Dan was drowned and sure that he had but a moment or two longer to struggle himself. They would try to haul him into the canoe, and things would be very fussy and troublesome; he would much rather be left alone. However, since they insisted he would do what they asked. And so he urged his weary limbs to further effort and was still afloat with one hand gripping Dan’s arm when a boat shot alongside. The next thing he knew he was still rocking in the waves, as it seemed, and the dark clouds were still racing across the heavens above him. But the water had grown delightfully warm, and he felt deliciously comfortable. Some one, it must have been Dan, of course, said: “Hard on your left! All right; you’re straight for the pier!” It was a foolish thing for Dan to say, and Nelson closed his eyes again in an effort to puzzle out the meaning. And doing so he fell asleep once more, and didn’t wake again until an hour later to find himself snug and warm in a big white bed with a sound of crackling flames in his ears. A little bald-headed man was leaning over him holding out a spoon, and Nelson obediently opened his mouth. Some one said something about supper, and the word suggested many things to him, and he closed his eyes again and scowled his forehead and tried to think. Plainly he was no longer in danger of drowning, for people don’t drown in beds. They had rescued him and brought him ashore, and he was--where was he? He opened his eyes and moved his head. Things were dimly familiar and he was sure he knew the man by the hearth. And--yes, there was Bob. “Hello, Bob,” he whispered. He had meant to say it right out loud just to let Bob know that all was well with him, and the result surprised and annoyed him. But Bob had heard, and he came over and put a hand on Nelson’s shoulder. “How are you feeling, Nel?” he asked with affected cheerfulness. Nelson considered a moment. Then: “Hungry,” he said. This time it wasn’t so much of a whisper and he was encouraged. “Where’s Dan?” he asked. “In the next room. He’s--he’s all right, Nel,” was the answer. Then the little bald-headed man, whom Nelson didn’t know, came and took his hand. “Don’t talk now, my boy. Try to go to sleep. When you wake up next time you shall have some supper.” Nelson viewed him suspiciously, but the face was rather a nice face even if it did extend up to the back of the head, and so he closed his eyes and forgot everything very quickly.