As if their questions penetrated his consciousness,[57] the stranger slowly opened his eyes.

[57]

"Sorry to come here like this," he murmured. "The fog was so thick, I lost my bearings and my power-boat ran aground. I've been trying hours to get her off. She's hard and fast on your sand-bar."

"Not on the ocean side?" Marcia exclaimed.

The man shook his head.

"Luckily not. I rounded the point all right, but missed the channel."

He struggled to rise and Marcia, kneeling beside him, helped him into an upright position where he sat, leaning against her shoulder.

"I seem to have brought in about half the sea with me," he apologized, looking about in vague, half-dazed fashion.

"No matter. We're used to salt water here," she answered. "How do you feel? You're not hurt?"

"Only a little. Nothing much. I've done something queer to my wrist."

Attempting to move it, he winced.

"It isn't broken?"

"I don't know. I was trying to push the boat off, and something suddenly gave way."

Turning his head aside, he bit his lip as if in pain.

"We'll telephone Doctor Stetson. The town is fortunate in having a very good physician. Meantime, you mustn't remain in these wet clothes. There is no surer way of catching cold. Do you think you[58] could get upstairs if Sylvia and I guided you?"

[58]

"I guess so—if it isn't far. I'm absurdly dizzy. I don't know why. I suppose, though, I must shed these wet togs."

"You certainly must. Come, Sylvia, lend a hand! We'll help him up."

"Oh, I'm not in such a bad way as all that. I can get up alone," he protested. "Only please wait just another minute. The whole place has suddenly begun to pitch again like a ship in midocean. Either I've lost my sea-legs or I'm all sea-legs, and nothing else. Perhaps I may be faint. I haven't eaten anything for a day or two."

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