"He's sound from top-knot to toe except for that ugly smash on the head. Now we'll put these blankets over him and keep him quiet. If the concussion isn't bad he'll become conscious before very long."
But hour after hour passed and Teeny-bits did not regain his senses. He lay in a stupor, occasionally muttering thick and unintelligible words.
"There's no need of you fellows staying up," said Wolcott Norris at midnight. "The doctor and I will be here with Teeny-bits and the best thing you can do is go to bed."
After a time the Williams brothers went home and Whipple and Phillips followed the mining engineer's advice. Neil Durant and Ted Norris, however, refused to leave the room where Teeny-bits lay. They sat together by the fireplace and waited for an encouraging word from the surgeon.
"I know he'll pull through," said Neil. "He's as tough as a wildcat."
"Some boy!" said the big son of Jefferson. "He's the real goods. Oh, he's got to come out of it."
Finally these two friends, who had fought each other so valiantly only a few weeks before, dozed off sitting there side by side, with the ruddy light of the fireplace on their faces.
They awoke simultaneously. The gray light of morning had begun to penetrate the camp windows, and Teeny-bits was sitting up on the couch, looking about him as if he had been awakened from a puzzling dream.
"What did I do with the skis?" he asked and, raising his hands to his bandaged head, gazed at his friends in bewilderment.
The doctor and Wolcott Norris, Neil and Ted were beside the cot in an instant.