We climbed to altitude, got in the pattern and landed at a higher speed than normal just in case we had another incident and needed the energy, but my attention was really on him. I must have looked like a flounder: one eye pointing at him, the other bouncing between the panel and the runway. I should claim that the landing was a greaser, but I was still a little shaken, so I’ll report it was OK — not my best, not my worst. We taxied to the transient area, where the Boy Scouts were marshaled, and shut down. My flying copilot still had his hands tightly gripping the shoulder belt and didn’t release them until I told him to open the door.