“Now you go to sleep,” Bob ordered, when the last of the gruel had disappeared. And it was not many minutes before his deep breathing indicated that he had obeyed the order.
“He’ll be all right now if he don’t get pneumonia, and I don’t think that’s likely,” Bob said as he laid his hand on the man’s forehead. “He hasn’t a speck of fever so far.”
It was now after eleven o’clock and they decided that it would be safe to go to bed as Jean would probably sleep for a long time if undisturbed.
“I’ll hear him if he wakes up,” Bob assured his brother, as they threw themselves in the bed in the little bedroom which opened out of the living room. “It’s lucky we’ve got plenty of blankets,” he muttered sleepily, as he pulled them up around his neck.
During the night the storm blew itself out and when soon after eight o’clock Bob opened his eyes, the sun was shining in at the window. Jack still slept on and he got out of bed carefully so as not to waken him. A good bed of coals still glowed in the fireplace, and soon he had a roaring fire sending a shower of sparks up the broad chimney. The crackling of the fire woke Jean, and when Bob returned to the living room after starting a fire in the cook stove, he was sitting up.
“How you feel?” he asked.
“Feel ver’ goot, but ver’ hungry,” was the reply, as he got to his feet.
“Well, we’ll remedy that last symptom in short order,” Bob laughed as he threw some more wood on the fire.
Jack did not waken until breakfast was on the table, then he came from the bedroom with a sheepish look on his face.
“Why didn’t you let a fellow sleep all day?” he demanded.