"Come right in, Mr. Reade, and eat something," urged Cook Leon.
"This is the first time I've seen you in days. You must be hungry."
"There's a fellow ten times smarter than I who's looking after Hazelton," spoke Tom cheerily, "so I believe I am hungry. Yes; you may set me out a good supper."
"Who's the very smart man that's looking after your friend?" Leon asked.
"Tim Walsh."
"Why, he's nothing but a miner!"
"You're wrong there, Leon. Walsh has been a soldier, and a hospital corps man at that. He knows more about nursing in a minute than I do in a month. Oh, why didn't I hear about Walsh earlier?"
Leon soon had a steaming hot supper on the table. First of all,
Reade swallowed a cupful of coffee. Then he began his supper.
"I wonder if Ferrers can get back tonight?" Tom mused, after the meal.
"He might, but a doctor couldn't get here tonight, unless he, too, could move fast on skis," Leon replied.
"Anyway, I'm not as worried as I was," sighed Reade.