Part 42 (2/2)

As the sun was beginning to redden the peaks above the lake, Tom heard the _put-put_ of a motor boat far off, and in half an hour a launch had worked in through the floating ice to the end of the pier and a ranger accompanied by a young man threw their packs on the pier and climbed out.

”_You_ the man that came over Swift Current yesterday?” the Ranger said, looking at Tom. ”Why, you're only a boy!”

”Well, I did it--and I'd do more'n that for Mr. Mills!” Tom answered.

”You were takin' chances on the Swift Current head wall,” the Ranger said. ”I'm mighty glad the Chinook came, before I have to go down that trail.”

”I got sort of used to slides,” Tom said, as they all fastened on their packs, and waved farewell to the caretaker. He told the Ranger and the doctor about their ride on the snowslide.

”Say, you've been havin' an excitin' time up there,” the Ranger laughed.

”Wonder what's happened since you left?”

”If Mills has ptomaine poisoning, nothing has happened,” the doctor said. ”He's simply been wis.h.i.+ng it would!”

They grew silent as the grind began up the canon trail through the forest. Tom's tracks of yesterday, melted less than the unpacked snow, showed plainly, and often he had been way off the trail, taking short cuts ten feet up where he was clear of underbrush.

”Didn't intend to,” he said. ”But the snow was so deep I couldn't always see the trail, and just steamed straight ahead.”

At noon they paused an hour for lunch and rest, and then picked up their loads again. The low sun was sinking behind Heaven's Peak when they reached the top of the pa.s.s, and took off their snow-shoes, for the Chinook had stripped all the snow from the Divide, where the wind had previously blown it thin. On the head wall, they found only a few inches, and they were able to slide from one switchback to the next lower, thus cutting off the turns and descending with great rapidity.

But even so it was dark before they reached the cabin, and once more Tom was traveling on sheer nerve. So was the doctor, for that matter, though the Ranger seemed as fresh as when they started. They had been on the trail for twelve hours, with only one hour rest.

But Tom was the first up the steps and in the door.

Joe sprang up from a chair to greet him, and by the lamplight he could see Mills, on the couch, and heard him say, in a weak voice, ”h.e.l.lo, Tom.”

”Thank G.o.d!” Tom cried, and slumped down weary and exhausted on his pack.

The doctor went to work at once. ”What have you done for him?” he asked Joe.

”Nothing much I could do,” Joe said. ”We gave him an emetic as soon as he was sick, and I gave him physic and hot water. The hot water seemed to ease him a little.”

”Good,” the doctor answered. ”You couldn't have done better. He'll come around all right now. Sick, were you, Mills?”

Mills groaned for reply.

”When the Chinook came,” Joe laughed, ”I told him I thought a blizzard was going to hit us, and he said he hoped it would blow the cabin into the lake!”

Joe now hurried about getting supper and making up beds for the tired men, while Mills lay feebly on the couch and made Tom sit by him and tell about his trip.

”You shouldn't 'a' done it, boy,” he kept saying. ”You shouldn't 'a'

risked it for the old Ranger.”

But that night they were roused by hearing poor Mills in the throes of another attack. The doctor hurried to him.

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