“That’s good. We all miss you.”
“Glad to hear you say so. I’ll be around in another week, I’m sure.”
“Oh, don’t be in a hurry to get well,” said Sam with a grin. “If I had a chance in here I’d make it last as long as possible.”
Sam looked at the comfortable bed, in the spotlessly spick and span room, glanced at a tray of delicacies at Tom’s side, thought of his own strenuous life, and grinned again.
“I sure would draw it out as long as possible,” he went on. “No beastly reveille to wake you up mornings.”
“Yes, I can lie here and think of you fellows hitting the trail,” said Tom. “But it isn’t all velvet at that. I’m as sore as a boil.”
“Yes, I suppose so. Say, the work is as hard as bullets now. You may well be glad you’re out of it.”
“I’ll only have that much more to make up,” Tom said, with a sigh. “I’m going to bone a little while I’m here, though.”
Tom’s two other chums came in later, and then he fell into a day-sleep, from which he awoke much refreshed. The orderly approached his bed, saying:
“One of the janitors has been asking for you, Mr. Taylor. He’s been here a number of times, but you were engaged or asleep. He’s just come again. Will you see him?”