"At sea," Harry answered, with an attempt at banter.
"What happened to you?"
"Tom, you remember the big black man I imagined that I saw last night?"
"Of course I do."
"He was a reality," Harry went on soberly. "After you had gone he appeared
again. We had it hot and heavy. I saw your boat coming, and I yelled---"
"I heard you," Tom interposed. "We got along as speedily as we could."
"And you didn't find me," finished Harry. "That brute hit me over the head
with something. We clinched and rolled into the gulf together. That was
the last that I remember clearly for some time. For a long time I had a
dream that I was bobbing about in water, and that I had my arms around a
floating log. By and by I came to sufficiently to discover that the dream
was a reality. I was holding to the log in grim earnest. How I came to
find the log I can't imagine. I think, while more than half unconscious,
I must have been swimming straight out into the gulf. Then I must have
touched the log and clung to it instinctively. Anyway, when I recovered
more fully I knew that the 'long-shore lights looked thousands of miles
away. I was too weak even to dream of trying to swim back, or to push
the log before me.
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