The stranger's smile broadened. "Glad to hear it, I'm sure," he said,
slowly. "So do I, though there's still room for improvement. What was
your particular ailment? Mine seems to have been water on the brain."

He sat up and shakily ran a hand through his wet hair as he spoke.
Atkins, his surprise doubled by this extraordinary behavior, could think
of nothing to say.

"Good morning," continued the young man, as if the meeting had been the
most casual and ordinary possible; "I think you said a moment ago that
you were feeling better. No relapse, I trust."

"Relapse? What in the world? Are you crazy? I ain't sick."

"That's good. I must have misunderstood you. Pleasant morning, isn't it?

"Pleasant morn--Why, say! I--I--what in time are you doin', layin' there
all soaked through? You scared me pretty nigh to death. I thought you
was drowned, sure and sartin."

"Did you? Well, to be honest, so did I, for a while. In fact, I'm not
absolutely sure that I'm not, even yet. You'll excuse me if I lie down
again, won't you? I never tried a seaweed pillow before, but it isn't so
bad."

He again stretched himself on the sand. Seth shook his head.

"Well, if this don't beat me!" he exclaimed. "You're the coolest critter
that ever I--I--"