This sight gave him a second wind, and he plugged on, with clear hints of the lake through the trees now, and what seemed like open water. But the trail kept off to the east of it, and it was getting rapidly dark when he finally came into a clearing and saw the hotel.
The hotel was dark, but near by, in a smaller house, there shone a light! Tom hurried, with his last ounce of strength, to the door, and pounded.
The door was opened, and Tom almost fell in. A strong hand caught him, and steadied him while he got off his snow-shoes, and then steadied him to a chair.
“Well, who be you, and where’d you come from?” a voice asked.
Tom could see little but the warm lamplight. The room, the face of the man, were all a blur.
“Many Glacier, over Swift Current,” he gasped. “Mills ate something last night—he’s awful sick—telephone to the superintendent—or somebody—send a doctor.”
“You mean to tell me you’ve come over Swift Current since last night, in that snow, and then through the Chinook?”
“Yes—’phone for a doctor—quick!”
“Why didn’t you ’phone from Many Glacier?”
“Wire’s on the bum—can’t you hurry and ’phone?” Tom almost wailed.