"Whoever the fellow is," said Gregory, as they passed along the verandah
a few minutes later, "he has evidently seen better days. Poor beggar, I
wonder where he's been, and what he has been up to?"

"We shall soon find out," Dempsey answered. "All he said when we fished
him out of the water was '_at last_,' and then he fainted clean away. I
am not more curious than my neighbours, but I don't mind admitting that
I am anxious to hear what he has to say for himself. Talk about Rip Van
Winkle, why, he is not in it with this fellow. He could give him points
and beat him hollow."

An hour later the stranger was so far recovered as to be able to join
his hosts at their evening meal. Between them they had managed to fit
him out with a somewhat composite set of garments. He had shaved off his
beard, had reduced his hair to something like order, and in consequence
had now the outward resemblance at least of a gentleman.

"Come, that's better," said Gregory as he welcomed him. "I don't know
what your usual self may be like, but you certainly have more the
appearance of a man, and less that of a skeleton than when we first
brought you in. You must have been pretty hard put to it out yonder."

The recollection of all he had been through was so vivid, that the man
shuddered at the mere thought of it.

"I wouldn't go through it again for worlds," he said. "You don't know
what I've endured."

"Trading over the border alone?" Gregory inquired.