“Good idea.”
They dipped several large handkerchiefs into the lake, wrung them out, and laid them on Bob’s forehead, neck and chest. It was a crude expedient but it was the best they could do. In the hot climate the water evaporated quickly and the cloths were made cooler from this cause than they otherwise would have been. Bob seemed a little easier, though he continued to moan and murmur in his delirium.
It was a long, weary night and, when the gray dawn began to show, Ned and Jerry were two very much alarmed youths.
“If the professor would only come back!” exclaimed Ned. “He’d know what to do for Bob. He always carries medicine with him. I wish he would come.”
“Maybe he left some of his medicines in the boat.”
“If he did I wouldn’t risk using them. We might give Bob the wrong thing.”
“That’s so. I wonder if anything could have happened to Mr. Snodgrass?”
“I hope not,” responded Ned. “Still he ought to be back by this time.”
“Give me some ice water!” suddenly called Bob, sitting up on the cot.
“I wish we had some,” said Jerry in a low voice as he gently pushed his chum’s head back on the pillow. “He’s on fire,” he added, turning to Ned.