Sandy put down his spoon and swung round to meet Dick’s inquiring gaze.
“A little shaky, I guess, but otherwise about the same as usual. By the way, Dick, what happened yesterday? When I woke up this morning, I couldn’t imagine where I was. And funny thing—I can’t remember very much of what took place on the trail. Did I get hurt?”
“Didn’t Raoul tell you?”
“Not yet.”
Dick picked up his moccasins and began absently to turn them in his hands. For Sandy’s benefit, it had occurred to him to gloss over the events of the previous day, to give his friend as little information as possible. It was not that Sandy’s breakdown was anything to be ashamed of, considering what he had been through. It was not that, Dick told himself. It was the possible effect the news might have on him. For Sandy was proud, and the knowledge of even a temporary weakness on his part would be sure to cause him a good deal of humiliation.
“You played out on the trail, Sandy,” Dick stated evenly. “I was all in myself. I hope we never again have so many obstacles and difficulties to contend with. I can’t imagine what would have happened to us if Toma hadn’t gone for help. We have Toma and Raoul to thank for getting through safely yesterday.”
“Toma is always doing remarkable things,” said Sandy. “I can’t help but admire the way he broke trail through that storm. Wish I had half his endurance.”
“You no talk about me so much,” Toma broke forth, pretending to be angry, but grinning in spite of himself. “Me no like ’em all big words. Mebbe make fun of me.”
“You hurry up dress,” interposed Raoul. “My sister wait in next room to bring something to eat. Pretty soon we have breakfast middle of the night.”
“All right,” laughed Dick, “we’ll hurry. I’ll be ready as soon as I put on these moccasins.”