“He’s all right now,” said Tom, passing his hand over Harvey. “He is getting warm again. He’ll be all right now when he gets his sleep out.”
Tom and Bob were thoroughly tired. They lay stretched out before the fire on blankets for a time, too weary to more than barely reply to the questions of the crew as to the mishap that had befallen Harvey.
Presently Tom rose up and said: “Well, Bob, it’s late, and we’ve got to be getting started or we’ll never get back to the cottage.”
“We shall be down again to-morrow to see how Harvey is,” he added, turning to the crew, who sat a little apart, somewhat abashed by the turn of affairs and the consciousness of the debt of gratitude they now owed to the boys whom they had wronged. “We’ll send a doctor down if you want us to, but I don’t think there’s any need of it. He’ll be all right by morning. Good night.”
They were about taking their departure when Harvey struggled for a moment with the clothing that enveloped him, lifted his head slightly from the ground, and said, weakly, “Hold on.”
“What is it?” asked Tom, as they stepped inside the tent again and sat down beside him.
“Don’t go,” said Harvey, huskily. “Please don’t go. I want you to stay here to-night,—that is, if you will. I’ve—I’ve got something—something to say to you in the morning. I can’t say it now. I’m too weak. But I want the crew to hear it in the morning.”
Tom and Bob looked at each other in astonishment. Then they nodded, and Tom replied to Harvey:
“All right, Jack. We’ll stay. Go to sleep now. You’re all right.”
The crew quickly spread some boughs for them, and brought more blankets from the yacht.