Joe eagerly gulped down the warm drink. It seemed to do him a world of good right on the spot; for when a cup of hot tea or coffee is available, it is utter folly to think strong drink is necessary in reviving a chilled or exhausted person.
“Oh! that tastes fine. Got any more, boys? I’m nearly starved,” he exclaimed, almost crying with weakness.
Already had Nick hurried over, and seized upon several cold flapjacks that possibly he had placed away, against one of his little bites between meals. Surely Nick ought to know what an awful thing hunger was. One of the most dreadful recollections of his life was a time when he had been compelled to go all of eight hours without a solitary scrap of food passing his lips!
Soon Joe was devouring the flapjacks with the eagerness of a hungry dog, to the evident delight of Buster, who always found pleasure in seeing any one eat heartily.
“Now tell us what happened, Joe?” said Jack, after they had watched the other make away with the last scrap, and look around for more.
“Yes, don’t you see we’re just crazy to hear?” Josh exclaimed.
“Did you get caught in that storm?” demanded George, suspecting the truth.
Joe nodded his head in the affirmative, and they could see a shudder pass over his form, as though the remembrance was anything but cheerful.
“Then the Flash must have been wrecked?” George went on, horrified as the remembrance of Clarence’s face came before him.
“Gone to flinders!” muttered Joe. “Smashed on the rocks, and not a scrap left to tell the story. Gee it was tough, all right!”