"It's too tough weather to expect the cook to bring the stuff over here tonight," said Jim. "So, if you can spare me, I'll go and eat with the boys. Then I'll bring your chuck over to you."
Alf came out of his corner, pulling on the ragged overcoat that he had picked up in a trade with an undersized man down at the Bright Hope Mine.
Left alone, Tom drew a stool up beside the bunk, and sat studying his chum's face.
Twenty minutes later Hazelton opened his eyes.
"You're feeling better, now, aren't you?" asked Tom hopefully.
"I—-I guess so," Harry muttered faintly.
"Where does it hurt you most, chum?"
"In—-in my chest."
"Right lung!"
"Yes."