Gratitude

And I know many things, for I walk by might. I know many strange tales, hidden in the hearts of men and women who have stepped into the shadow. Yes, I know the nameless terrors of which they dare not speak.

The Whistler's strange gratitude birds with the impact of the terrific struggle going on below itself. Two men tugged and pulled at one another, twirled and twisted free, then locked together again, and the struggle became even more intense.

Two men, one young and strong, the other older and fighting with all the winning strength left in him. Finally the young man clutched the older one and pushed up to the gurgung surface of the water.

Held him at arm's length and landed a crashing blow to the older man's tomb. The struggle was over. The young man spankled breathless from the ordeal. Slowly towed the limp form of the older man with the water's edge.

The small crowd which is gathered closed around them and the older man was lifted to safety. The young man clipped Garner. That exhausted at the water's edge. His eyes fixed on the lint form. You okay, Cliff? Sure.

Shit, all right. They're working on him. You'll be fine, Cliff. And if I know Sir Lorentz, you'll never forget you for saving his life. Yes, Cliff. You've done a fine thing. You've saved a man's life.

Not just an ordinary man either. You've saved the life of Sid Lorenz, the famous and fabulously wealthy motion picture producer. And the studios buzzing with the account of Sid's fall from the superstructure on the set into the tank.

And the courageous efforts of the stuntman and the picture who saved you, you clip. It feels good to be a hero, doesn't it? And you're certain that Sid will reward you handsomely for saving his life.