“My arm is better, comrade,” replied Dale, smiling. “I thought we had decided that there was to be no ‘sir’ out here, but only a brotherly salute, as befits mountaineers.”
“I had forgotten,” said Saxe; “and the other seems so natural. I am glad it is better.”
“Thanks, lad. I’ve been to the little cascade, and held it under the icy cold water as it fell. The numb chill seems to have done it no end of good.”
“You should have spoken to me when it was so bad in the night.”
“I could not,” said Dale, looking at him wonderingly.
“Was it so very bad, then?”
“No; it was not bad at all. I did not feel it till I got up.”
“That’s when I mean—while it was dark.”
“You’ve been dreaming, Saxe. I did not get up when it was dark; and, by the way, when did you get up and open the tent door?”
“I didn’t,” cried Saxe: “it was open. I felt the cold when you woke me with getting up and going in and out.”