The Englishman smiled and nodded, mumbled some ghosts of words, and then, under the spell of the beef tea and brandy inside him, and the heat of the fire on his body, sank again to sleep. For a few minutes his two friends sat and watched him in silence. Dick Goodine was the first to speak.
"D'ye think he'll pull 'round all right?" he whispered.
"Of course he'll pull 'round," replied the New Yorker. "He is as strong as a horse, and the bullet wound is not serious. His blood is clean, thank Heaven!—as clean as his heart. He has got cold right into his bones; but if the heat will drive out cold, I guess we'll thaw him, Dick. Now is the time to try, anyway, before it gets set. We'll keep the fire roaring. And in half an hour we'll wad more hot drinks into him. We'll drive that pain out of his side, or bust!"
The trapper nodded, his dark eyes fixed upon Rayton's quiet face with a haunted and mournful regard.
"We'll take him home before night," continued Mr. Banks; "and then we'll go gunning for the skunk who tried to murder him!"
"You bet we will!" replied Goodine huskily.
CHAPTER XIII
CAPTAIN WIGMORE SUGGESTS AN AMAZING THING
Rayton's chest and side felt much better when he awoke from his second deep sleep by the fire. It was noon; and though the air was frosty, the sun was shining. Mr. Banks administered more beef tea to him, piping hot.