So Dick ate the sandwich, the piece of gingerbread, and the remains of the apple pie, topping off with a big drink of spring water.
After that he felt very much better and resumed his work with fresh energy.
At two o’clock he found Hiram Bond awake, but as weak as a cat, to use his own expression.
Clearly the man was in no condition to leave the place that day.
“I fear this will finish me,” said Bond, in a weak voice.
“I’ll take one of the horses and start on down the road for help,” said Dick, regarding the man with an anxious eye. “You’ll die at this rate, for you haven’t had any nourishment but that small cup of milk all day.”
“Perhaps you had better do so,” acquiesced Bond, feebly. “I think there’s a farmhouse about five or six miles below here.”
“Then I’m off,” said Dick. “I’ll get them to send a vehicle to remove you from this place—you can’t stay here another night.”
Dick mounted one of the animals and started off down the road, the horse being accustomed to nothing faster than a gentle trot.
It was something over an hour before the boy reached a house.