"That loom, him sleep by Cactus Ike," said the Chinese.
"Never mind whether Cactus Ike is going to sleep there or not," said Mr, Kent sharply. "You tell Ike he can bunk in with the rest of the boys. He's no better than they are."
"Me sabe," replied the Celestial.
Jack was too tired to pay much attention to this conversation. Nor did he attach any significance to a talk he heard under his windows a little later.
"What's the matter with Ike?" he dimly heard some one ask.
"Mad 'cause he got turned out of his room for one of them tenderfoot kids," was the answer. "I wouldn't want to get Ike down on me."
"Aw, he's a big bluff."
"He is, eh? Well, you wait."
But, in spite of his troubles and worriment over his father, Jack was soon asleep from sheer weariness, and when morning came he forgot there was such a person as Cactus Ike.
A doctor arrived from Fillmore about breakfast time and examined Mr. Lantry. He said the old man was very sick, and would be for some time. He was out of his head, from fever, and might be so for three weeks. With careful nursing he would recover, said the medical man, and he left some remedies.