CHAPTER VII
REINDEER TO THE RESCUE
When, the following morning, Eric awoke to consciousness in his bunk on the Itasca he found himself the hero of the hour. He had been well-liked in his class before, but his daring feat increased this tenfold. Like all clean-cut Americans, the cadets held plucky manliness to be the most worth-while thing in the world. The surgeon, who was bandaging his burns, told him, in answer to the boy's questions, that the rescued man would probably recover.
"You're not the only one I've got to take care of, though," the doctor said to him. "Van Sluyd's in sick bay this morning, too."
"What's the matter with him?" queried Eric.
"Van Sluyd's got grit," was the reply.
"What did he do?"
"I'm just going to tell you. About half an hour after the two of you had been brought on board, and while I was still examining your burns, Van Sluyd came up and asked if he could have a word with me.
"'Of course,' I answered, 'what's on your mind?'
"'My father's a doctor,' he said, 'and I've picked up a little medicine. Is the fellow that Swift rescued badly burned?'
"'Yes,' I answered, 'he is.'