Part 30 (2/2)
”How can I know so soon, senor?” questioned Nicolas.
”True,” nodded Tom.
Then he stepped outside the tent, remarking: ”Our food supply is so low, Nicolas, that I fear you will have to take the basket and go after more.”
”It shall be done, senor,” promised the servant, and going into the tent appeared a moment later with a basket.
Tom handed him some money.
”I am listening to your orders, senor.”
”Oh, you know as well what food to get as I do,” Tom rejoined.
”But,” he added, under his voice, ”you _must_ get me some--”
Here Tom added the Spanish names of three or four drugs that he wanted.
”I think I shall be able to get the drugs, senor. Some of the _peons_ must keep them in their houses.”
”You must get them, as I said. Now, make good time. I will await your return.”
Then Tom drew Harry aside, describing the finding of the fever-stricken stranger.
”Who on earth can he be?” wondered Harry, curiously. ”And what can he be doing in this out of the way part of the world?”
”That's his own secret,” retorted Tom, dryly; and the man is bent on keeping it. There are only two things that we need to know--one that he is ill, and the other that he is very plainly a gentleman, who would be incapable of repaying our kindness with any treachery.
What do you say, Harry? Shall we bring him here and look after him?”
”That's for you to say, Tom.”
”It's half for you to say, Harry. Half the risk is also yours, if anything goes wrong.”
”Tom, I feel the same way that you do about it,” Harry declared, his eyes s.h.i.+ning brightly. ”A fellow creature in distress is one whom we can't pa.s.s by. We can't leave him to die. Such a thing would haunt me as long as I live. When do you want to go after him?”
”Just as soon as it's dark,” Reade replied. ”That will be within the hour, for here in the tropics night comes soon after the sun sets.”
When the time came Tom and Harry left their tent, strolling slowly.
It was very dark and the young engineers listened intently as they went along. They found their stranger and lifted him from the ground. He was so slight and frail that he proved no burden whatever. Apparently without having been seen by any one Reade and Hazelton bore their man back to camp.
”Into the cook tent,” whispered Reade. ”Don Luis, if he should visit us, is less likely to look there than anywhere else.”
Into the cook tent they bore the stranger, arranging a bed on the floor, and covering the sick man with such blankets as his condition appeared to call for.
”I am back, _caballeros_,” announced Nicolas, treading softly into the tent. ”To the praise of Heaven, be it said, I secured the medicines you told me to get.”
Then Nicolas stopped short, gazing wonderingly at the fever-flushed face of the stranger.
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