notwithstanding the fact that he was wrapped in dry clothing and
lay so close to a roaring spruce fire that its heat blistered
him.

Brennan was bending over him with eyes wet. He was swearing, too,
in a weak, faltering way, calling upon all the saints to witness
that the prostrate man was the embodiment of every virtue, and
that his death would be a national calamity. Others were gathered
about, men and women, and among them O'Neil saw the doctor from
Sitka whom he had met on shipboard.

As soon as he was able to speak he inquired for the safety of the
girl he had helped to rescue. Johnny promptly reassured him.

"Man, dear, she's doing fine. A jigger of brandy brought her to,
gasping like a blessed mermaid."

"Was anybody lost?"

"Praise God, not a soul! But it's lucky I stood by to watch the
old tub go down, or we'd be mourning two. You'll be well by
morning, for there's a cannery in the next inlet and I've sent a
boat's crew for help. And now, my boy, lay yourself down again
and take a sleep, won't you? It'll be doing you a lot of good."

But O'Neil shook his head and struggled to a sitting posture.

"Thanks, Johnny," said he, "but I couldn't. I can hear those
horses screaming, and besides--I must make new plans."