“No, but don’t worry, Wes! I’ll have him here before you’re awake,” Artie said more decisively than he was inclined to feel. “Guess you will be O.K. till I get back. I’ll leave a lantern lighted.”
“Sure, I’ll be all right! Feel tired enough to sleep all day to-morrow. Hope you get him back safe!”
“You can bank on it that I will! Now go to sleep!”
“One thing more, Art!”
“Yes?”
Artie, approaching the bunk, saw Westy’s face wreathed in smiles and his hand extended. He clasped it, and with a look that told more than words could ever tell, he turned and walked out of the cabin.
With lantern in hand, Artie descended into the gulley walking along cautiously, anxiously looking for some sign or footprint of Uncle Jeb. Coming to the spot where Westy had left him, he found him lying there, burning with fever and delirious.
How he ever succeeded in getting Uncle Jeb back to the cabin, Artie could never quite say. It was nothing more than superhuman effort that came to his aid in getting the sick man up out of the gulley without adding to his discomfort any more than he could help.
Dawn was just beginning to tinge the far horizon with little flecks of light, when Artie half-carried, half-dragged Uncle Jeb into the cabin and laid him in his bunk.
Westy had not awakened, and his quiet, steady breathing bespoke the fact that his slumber was unbroken and nature had once more reasserted itself.