“So I did,” replied Frank. “Stuff for burns, cuts and stomach aches, but I don’t know as it would be safe to give him anything when he has a fever.”
“Have you got anything for a fever?” inquired Ned.
“Yes, some of those little, white tasteless pills, that come in small bottles. Homeopathic remedies they call ’em. I’ll read the directions.”
At that instant Fenn murmured something.
“He’s talking!” exclaimed Frank, listening at the flap of the tent.
“Water, mother. Give me a drink of water,” spoke the sick boy.
“He thinks he’s home,” said Ned.
“Here, I’ll get him a drink, and you read the directions on that bottle of pills,” directed Bart. “Maybe we can give him some.”
Fenn drank thirstily of the spring water Bart carried in to him, scarcely opening his eyes, and, when he did, he did not know his chum.
“The smugglers!” exclaimed the now delirious youth. “We’ll catch ’em! Don’t let Ruth fall into the cave. Look out!”