An hour later Sam was sleeping, while Dick sat on some brushwood, tending the fire and keeping an eye on Tom. It was very quiet, and the snow was coming down as thickly as ever. Dick had much to occupy his mind—the perils of the present situation, his father's business affairs, and Dora.
"Poor Dora!" he murmured. "She'll be much worried until she hears from me again. Well, I won't mind all this, if only Tom comes out of it in his right mind." It made Dick sick from head to foot to think that fun-loving Tom might have to go to an asylum. Such a happening would wreck the happiness of every member of the family, and wreck dear Nellie's happiness, too.
Dick remained on watch for three hours and then roused Sam and turned in himself. So the long night passed, Tom continuing to sleep, and only rousing up once and demanding a drink. And he went on sleeping when Dick and Sam arose to get breakfast and form their plans for the day.
It had stopped snowing, but the sky was still overcast. It was colder than before—a drop in the thermometer which meant but one thing—that the long Alaskan winter had arrived. For months to come everything would be frozen up as hard as a rock.
"I'd give a good deal to be back in Dawson," remarked Dick, while munching a scant breakfast. He and Sam had decided to make the food on hand last as long as possible.
"So would I. But I don't see ourselves getting there in this fall of snow—and with more snow in the air."
"I don't see what we're going to do with Tom, if he can't walk. We can't carry him."
"We can make a drag—a sort of sled, Sam—and haul him on that."
"So we can! How queer I didn't think of it! Why, it will be just the thing!" And the face of the youngest Rover brightened up considerably.
Just what move to make next would depend in a great measure on how Tom felt when he roused up. His brothers watched him anxiously, but made no move to wake him.