"Alaska! Great hambones! Am I in Alaska now?"
"Yes, if you must know. But do be quiet and rest yourself," went on Dick, soothingly.
"What did I do, run away?"
"We'll talk about it later, Tom. You must rest now," and Dick made the sufferer lie down as before. Then he motioned for Ike Furner to come away.
"It's all right, I'll git out—I wouldn't stay fer a farm!" muttered the old gold hunter. "Your brother is as crazy as they make 'em. I'm glad to get shut o' him. Didn't remember me! I can't believe it!" And a little later he bid the crowd farewell and took his departure, to hunt up the other old prospectors he had mentioned. It may be said here that that was the last the Rovers saw or heard of him for a long time to come.
The day passed slowly, the others doing all they could for poor Tom. The sufferer roused up several times and took what nourishment was given to him. His head had been bound up, so that the cut on his forehead did not show. Evidently he was suffering from exposure and the loss of blood.
"We must get him to Dawson somehow," said Dick. "I guess we had better start to-morrow morning early."
"Just what I think," replied Sam.
"Suits me," responded Jack Wumble. "But it ain't going to be no easy job makin' it, boys," he added, seriously.