“He certainly impresses me as being so,” the physician replied.
“You fully believe that he knew just what he was doing?” Tom insisted.
“I do, Reade. But why should you care? You have the reins in your own hands now.”
“I wish to keep the reins there,” Tom returned quickly. “Still I don’t want to hold the power for an instant if there is reason to believe that Mr. Thurston didn’t know what he was doing.”
“If that is all you required of me, Reade, rest easy and go ahead with the big trust that has been placed in your hands,” replied Dr. Gitney.
“Then help me to get a few things out of the chief’s tent that we shall need,” replied Tom.
“Tell me what the things are,” rejoined the physician, “and I’ll pass them out. I don’t want one of you in there, or Thurston will soon be as delirious as Blaisdell is, poor fellow.”
By stealth, drawing tables and instruments, several boxes of maps, books and papers and other necessary articles were taken from Mr. Thurston tent without awaking the sick man.
These were removed to a tent that was not occupied at the moment.
“Supper’s ready, folks,” announced Bob, the cook’s helper, stepping softly through camp.