Next day the weather continued intensely cold. Jim Ferrers went
to another shack to construct a pair of skis. These are long,
wooden runners on which Norwegians travel with great speed over
hard snow. Jim was positive that he could make the skis and that
he could use them successfully.
Harry still remained weak and ill, caring nothing for food, though
his refusals to eat drove Reads well-nigh frantic.
The morning after the skis were made, Jim Ferrers, who had relieved
worn-out Tom at three in the morning, stepped to the young engineer's
bunk and shook him lightly.
"All right," said Reade, sitting up in bed. "I'll get up."
He was out of the bunk almost instantly.
"I'm going to send Tim Walsh in to help you a bit," Jim whispered.
"The crust is right this morning, and I'm off for Dugout. Before
we forget it give me that nugget."
Tom passed it over, saying solemnly:
"Remember, Jim, you've got to bring a doctor back with you---if
you have to do it at the point of a gun!"
"I'll bring one back with me, if there's one left in Dugout,"
Ferrers promised, fervently.
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