"I feel just as if Mark was my brother," he said to the others. "I never was so attached to anybody before."
"Well, I feel attached to him myself," said Si. "But then I've got my folks at home, while you have nobody. That makes a great deal of difference."
At the end of the third day came the crisis, and for a few hours it looked as if poor Mark might die. He was totally unconscious and they had to force the medicine down his throat. But the doctor had told them to look for this, so they were not particularly surprised, only worried.
But, the crisis passed, it was wonderful how quickly Mark seemed to rally. He gained strength every hour, and in a few days was able to sit up, take a little food, and do some talking.
"I am awfully glad you are better," said Bob, with a beaming face. "But you must go slow, Mark, or you'll have a relapse. The doctor said so."
"Did I have a doctor?"
"Yes."
"I don't remember it."
"You were pretty far gone when he came. But now be still, and I'll fix you some broth."
As soon as Mark began to mend Si and Maybe Dixon went to work regularly once more. They found no large nuggets, but a good bit of gold in coarse grains, which pleased them not a little.