“Easy, son, easy,” the voice steadied him. “Nobody can start back now till mornin’. I want to get this right. I can hardly believe it.”
“Oh, you got to believe it!” Tom cried.
The man rose and began to work at the stove. Presently he brought Tom a big cup of hot coffee, and a plate of food, and stood by while he drank and ate.
As the hot coffee and the food began to revive him, Tom told the whole story over again, more calmly, and the caretaker listened, his eyes big.
“Well, son,” he said, “you’re all to the mustard. Now, if you’re able, we’ll go ’phone.”
He led the way, and Tom repeated his story to the Park superintendent’s office.
“Be ready to start back at daylight,” a voice said. “If the Chinook’s cleared open water enough for the launch to get up the lake, we’ll pick you up where you are. Otherwise, meet us at the fork of the east and west trail at the head of the lake an hour after sunrise—that is, if you are up to going back with us.”
His new friend now took him back into the warm, lighted room, made him undress and give himself a good rub, and then put him to bed on a couch in the corner.
“If you’re goin’ back over that trail to-morrow,” he said, “you’ll need all the sleep you can get to-night.”