"I wish I could walk," remarked the little man, "but this leg of mine is
broke--ah, bah, it is!"

"Yes, you mustn't try to walk. Be still," answered the boy. "They'll be
here soon." Slowly and carefully he took off the boot and sock from the
broken leg, and, with his penknife, opened the seam of the corduroy
trouser. "I believe I could set that leg myself," he added.

"I think you could--bagosh," answered Denzil heavily. "They'll bring a
rope to haul me up?"

"Junia has a lot of sense, she won't forget anything."

"And if your father's there, he'll not forget anything," remarked Denzil.

"He'll forget to make me wear these boots tomorrow," said the boy
stubbornly, his chin in his hands, his eyes fixed gloomily on the brass-
headed toes.

There was a long silence. At last from the stricken Denzil came the
words: "You'll have your own way about the boots."

Carnac murmured, and presently said:

"Lucky you fell where you did. Otherwise, you'd have been in the water,
and then I couldn't have been of any use."

"I hear them coming--holy, yes!"

Carnac strained his ears. "Yes, you're right. I hear them too."