"I've heard o' sech cases," he told the boys, after learning about Tom's trouble. "It's too bad! I sure do hope your brother will git over it. It ain't nice to have a crazy pusson in the family."
After that several days went by slowly. At times Tom seemed to improve and then he would sink back, sometimes becoming quite wild, so the others had to watch him closely. But he grew stronger physically, which was something to be thankful for.
On the third day it started to snow again, and this kept up for twenty-four hours. It was as cold as ever, and the sheet iron stove was kept almost red hot, so that the party, and especially Tom, might not take cold.
On the next morning, much to the surprise of everybody, Tom got up and insisted on walking around the cabin.
"I feel almost well," he told his brothers. "But I'd give a good deal to be home."
That afternoon came a great shouting, and the cracking of whips outside the cabin. At once Tony Bings's face lit up.
"It's the men from the Supply Depot!" he cried. "I reckon it's Schmidt."
"Hello, in dare!" was the cry. "Vos you alife alretty, Tony? Vy can't you oben der door und let a feller in, ain't it?"
"Hello, Gus!" answered the owner of the cabin, and threw open the door, and in bustled a big, fat German, heavily clad, and wearing thick gloves and ear-warmers. The newcomer stared in astonishment at the Rovers and Jack Wumble.
"Sure und I tidn't know you vos have combany, Tony," said Gus Schmidt.