“Doe Jitney, at Bear’s Cave,” replied one of the men.
“How far is that?”
“Fourteen miles, by the trail.”
“Get on to a pony, then, and go after Dr. Gitney. Bring him here and tell him we’ll want him here for the present. Tell the doctor to bring all the medicines he’ll need, and both of you ride fast.”
“I’m not going on your orders,” retorted the man sullenly.
“Yes, you are,” Tom informed him promptly. “I’m in charge, for the present, and acting under Mr. Thurston’s orders. If you don’t go, you won’t eat any more in this camp, or draw any more pay here. It’s work or jump for you—-and discharge if you lose or waste any time on the way. Mr. Blaisdell’s life is at stake. Rustle!”
The man so ordered scowled, but he rose, went over and saddled a pony and rode out of camp.
“That part is attended to,” sighed Tom. “Hang it, I wish we could get hold of some ice. I don’t know much, but I do know that ice is needed in high fevers. I wonder if anyone here knows where ice can be had? By Jove, there’s Peter! He knows more about this country than anyone else around here.”
It was now within an hour of the time when the engineer parties might be expected hack into camp. Reade, however, was not of the sort to lose an hour needlessly.
Tom had just caught sight of Bad Pete as the latter stepped through a little gully an eighth of a mile below the trail and vanished into some green brush.