"But I thought you had the basket," I explained. "I left it at the spring-house, and when I went back it was gone."
"So that was it!" he answered. And then he explained that just about the time they expected their supper they saw a man carry a basket stealthily through the snow to the deer park. It was twilight, but they watched him from the window, and he put the basket through the barbed-wire fence and then crawled after it. Just inside he sat down on a log and, opening the basket, began to eat. He was still there when it got too dark to see him.
"If that was our dinner," he finished savagely, "I hope he choked to death over it."
Doctor Barnes chuckled. "He didn't," he said, "but he's got the worst case of indigestion in seven counties."
Well, I got the mustard and water ready with Mr. Dick standing by hoping Mr. Biggs would die before he got it, and then I filled a basket for the shelter-house. I put out the light and he took the basket and started out, but he came back in a hurry.
"There's somebody outside talking," he said. I went to the door with him and listened.
"The sooner the better," Mike was saying. "I'm no good while I've got it on my mind."
And Mr. Thoburn: "To-morrow is too soon: they're not in the mood yet. Perhaps the day after. I'll let you know."
I didn't get to sleep until almost morning, and then it was to dream that Mr. Pierce was shouting "Hypocrites" to all the people in the sanatorium and threatening to throw glasses of mustard and warm water at them.