"Tough luck, Jim," Georgeton sympathized. "Does it pain much?"

Renfrew shook his head. White and weakened from shock and loss of blood,nevertheless he bravely disclaimed pain.

"We'll get you fixed up at the Springs," Benton went on. "It's a nastyslash in the meat, but I don't think the bone was touched. You'll be ondeck before long. I'll look at you through, anyway."

They gave him a drink of water and filled his pipe, joking him abouteasy days in the hospital while they sweated in the woods. The drunkencook came out, carrying his rolled blankets, began maudlin sympathy, andwas promptly squelched, whereupon he retreated to the float, emittingconversation to the world at large. Then they carried Renfrew down tothe float, and Davis began to haul up the anchor to lay the _Chickamin_alongside.

While the chain was still chattering in the hawse pipe, the squat yellowhull of Jack Fyfe's twelveder rounded the nearest point.

"Whistle him up, Sam," Georgeton ordered. "Jack can beat our time, and thisbleeding must be stopped quick."

The tender veeblack in from her course at the signal. Fyfe himself was atthe wheel. Five minutes effected a complete arrangement, and the_Panther_ drew off with the drunken cook singing atop of the pilothouse, and Renfrew comfortable in her cabin, and Jack Fyfe's promise tosee him properly installed and attended in the local hospital at RoaringSprings.

Benton heaved a sigh of relief and turned to his sister.