"No, you fell down the mountain side."
"Eh? What mountain side?"
"The one right back of you. But don't bother about that now. Just take it easy and rest yourself," went on Dick, soothingly.
"Are you sure no bones are broken?" asked Sam, anxiously.
"I don't remember anything about a tumble," said Tom, slowly. "I—I—thought I was in our room at Brill, old number twenty-five. And it wasn't winter either. Say, I can't understand all this. Are we out in the woods back of Brill? Hadn't we better get back? See how it's snowing."
"We won't go back to-night, Tom," answered Dick. "You just take my advice and lie down and keep quiet. If you are hungry you can have something to eat."
"I don't want anything to eat—I had a bang-up supper, the last I can remember. But I seem to be in a fog. I don't remember anything about how I got here. And my head hurts to beat the band! Feels as if a lot of boiler makers were working inside of it!" Tom put his hand up as of old. "I guess I'll—I'll have to—to leave it all to you!" he went on faintly, and then fell back on the blanket, completely exhausted.