Reade."
Tim Walsh thereupon bundled the young engineer into another bunk,
covered him up, and then watched until Tom Reade, utterly exhausted,
fell into a deep sleep that was more like a trance.
"But I didn't say in which hour I'd call him," muttered Walsh
under his breath, his eyes twinkling. Then he tip-toed over to
look at Harry Hazelton, who, also, was asleep. Through the whole
day Tom slept nor did the ex-Army nurse once quit the shack.
When dark came Tim Walsh had just finished lighting the lamp and
shading it when he turned to find Tom Reade glaring angrily into
his eyes.
"Tim, what does this treachery mean?" Reade questioned in a
hoarse whisper.
"It means, sir, that you had tired yourself out so that you were
no longer fit to nurse your partner. He was in bad hands, taking
his medicines and his care from a man as dog-tired as you were,
Mr. Reade. It also means, sir, that I've been looking after Mr.
Hazelton all day, and he's a bit better this evening. Him and
me had a short chat this afternoon, and you never heard us.
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