“Cramps,” said Mr. Carey. “He told me this morning that he couldn’t seem to move himself below the waist. He got pretty warm paddling, I suppose, and then when he went overboard the shock was too intense. He had a close shave of it, and he owes his life to you, Tilford.” “And we both owe our lives to you, sir. If you’ll excuse me I’d like to go up and see him a minute.” “Certainly,” said Mrs. Carey. “I’ll see that cook keeps some waffles hot for you.” “He’s in the room next to yours, further along the gallery,” said her husband. Nelson didn’t knock because he thought Dan might be asleep and he didn’t want to wake him. But when he had cautiously opened the door and peeked in he saw Dan sitting up in bed and smiling broadly at him. “Hello, Life Saver!” called Dan. Nelson bounded across and seized his hand. “Dan, are you all right?” he asked eagerly. “Gee, I’m glad to see you, you old chump!” “I’m feeling right as a trivet. What’s a trivet, anyway, Nel?” “Oh, a thingumbob with three legs,” laughed Nelson. “Well, I’m glad I wasn’t one of them yesterday. Two legs were all I wanted. They ached like thunder and I couldn’t swim a stroke. Nel, you saved my life, and----” “Cut it out! If any one says anything more about saving lives, I’ll--I’ll hurt them!” “I dare say it is a bore,” answered Dan soberly, “having folks talk about it, but I want you to know that--that I’m mighty grateful, old fellow, and that if the chance ever comes for me to even things up, why, you can count on your Uncle Daniel. It was a swell thing to do, Nel, stand by me like that, only I wasn’t worth it and you might have got drowned yourself. That’s all. I won’t bother you with any more thanks, only--only--” Dan’s hand found Nelson’s on the coverlid and squeezed it until Nelson winced. Then: “Where’s that fussy old doctor?” he asked. Nelson, relieved at the change of subject, laughed. “He will be along pretty soon. If you’re all right he’s going to let you get up. Then we can get the afternoon train back.” “Of course I’m all right; right as a three-legged thingumbob. Say, won’t Clint be waxy? He’ll never let us out of his sight again.” “I suppose he’ll have to be told?” said Nelson ruefully. “I guess so; it’s up to us to tell him, Nel. Not that I want to, you know, but--well, it’s more honest.” “That’s so; I guess we’d better. Say, Dan, these Careys have been mighty good. We’d ought to do something for them. Do you think we could?” “I’d like to, but I don’t see what we could do. We’ll have to think it over. Maybe Bob can suggest something. He’s got a heap of sense, that chap.”