“Tim, I know you meant it for the best, and that I ought to be thankful to you,” Tom murmured, “but, man, I’ve a good notion to skin you alive!”

“You’d better not try anything like that, sir,” grinned Walsh.  “Remember that I’m in charge here, now, and that you’re only a visitor.  If you interfere between me and my patient, Mr. Reade, I’ll put you out of here and bar the door against you.”

Tom, though angry at having been allowed to sleep for so long, had the quick good sense to see that the big miner was quite right.

“All right, Tim Walsh,” he sighed.  “If you can take better care of my chum than I can then you’re the new boss here.  I’ll be good.”

“First of all,” ordered Walsh, “go over to the cook shack and get some supper.  Don’t dare to come back inside of an hour, so you’ll have time to eat a real supper.”

Tom departed obediently.  Once out in the keen air he began to understand how much good his day’s sleep had done him.  He was alive and strong again.  Taking in deep breaths, he tramped along the path over to the shaft ere he turned his steps toward the cook shack.

“Come right in, Mr. Reade, and eat something,” urged Cook Leon.  “This is the first time I’ve seen you in days.  You must be hungry.”

“There’s a fellow ten times smarter than I who’s looking after Hazelton,” spoke Tom cheerily, “so I believe I am hungry.  Yes; you may set me out a good supper.”

“Who’s the very smart man that’s looking after your friend?” Leon asked.

“Tim Walsh.”

“Why, he’s nothing but a miner!”

“You’re wrong there, Leon.  Walsh has been a soldier, and a hospital corps man at that.  He knows more about nursing in a minute than I do in a month.  Oh, why didn’t I hear about Walsh earlier?”

Leon soon had a steaming hot supper on the table.  First of all, Reade swallowed a cupful of coffee.  Then he began his supper.

“I wonder if Ferrers can get back tonight?” Tom mused, after the meal.

“He might, but a doctor couldn’t get here tonight, unless he, too, could move fast on skis,” Leon replied.

“Anyway, I’m not as worried as I was,” sighed Reade.

The door opened, and Alf Drew entered.  That youngster rarely came to the cook shack alone, but the lad learned that Tom Reade was present.

“Sit down and keep quiet, if you’re going to stay here,” ordered Cook Leon.

Alf went to the corner of the shack furthest from the other two.  Tom, watching covertly, saw Alf furtively draw out cigarette and match.

Very softly Drew scratched a match.  He was standing, his back turned to the others, over a wood-box.

Click-ick-ick! sounded a warning note.

“Ow-ow-ow-ow!” howled Alf, jumping back, dropping both match and cigarette.

“What’s the matter, youngster?” demanded Tom placidly.

“There’s a rattlesnake in there under the wood,” wailed the boy, his face ashen.