"Where does it hurt you most, chum?"
"In---in my chest."
"Right lung!"
"Yes."
"Is the pain severe, Harry?"
"It's about all I can---can stand---old fellow."
"Poor chap. Don't try to talk, now. We're taking good care of
you, and we'll keep on the job day and night. You've had some
medicine, though you didn't know it. Now, try to sleep, if you
can."
But Hazelton couldn't sleep. He tossed restlessly, his face aflame
with fever.
Jim Ferrers came back with the supper, but Reade could eat very
little of it. Alf Drew did not return. He had made his peace with
the workmen.
Through the night Harry grew steadily worse. When daylight came
in, with the blizzard still raging, the young engineer was delirious.
CHAPTER XXI
THE WOLVES ON THE SNOW CRUST
The blizzard lasted for two days. Toward the end the temperature
rose, with the result that three feet of loose snow lay on top
of the harder packed snow underneath.
Harry Hazelton had passed out of the delirium, but he was weak,
and apparently sinking.
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