Through it all the man uttered not one word. This is not to be wondered at. He was in great pain. Once for a short time he lost consciousness. When revived he turned over with a groan to utter a single word:
“Nelson.”
While Jerry engaged with his task, Curlie examined the food supply. In a grub box he found flour, sugar, bacon and a miscellaneous assortment of cans. Under the eaves hung a generous cut of fresh caribou meat.
He put some of this meat to broil over the coals. He brewed a can of strong coffee. When Jerry had completed the dressing of the man’s wounds, he offered the man a cup of this coffee. He gulped it down eagerly; then, to their astonishment, he turned over with his face to the wall and fell fast asleep.
“He’ll do well enough now,” said Jerry.
“But we must get him out to a doctor at once. Complications may set in.”
“Absolutely.”
“What say we eat?”
“Righto!”
Five minutes later they were munching fresh caribou steak and cold biscuits. But in Curlie’s mind a score of questions still circled round and round.