OUT ON A HUNT
Frank's announcement seemed to strike a cold chill to the hearts of Ned
and Bart. Sickness was something with which they had seldom come in
contact, and they did not know how to proceed.
"I suppose we'd better get a doctor," ventured Ned.
"Where?" inquired Frank as he came from the tent. "There isn't one
within five miles--maybe farther."
"Haven't we any medicine?" asked Bart. "I thought you said you brought
some along."
"So I did," replied Frank. "Stuff for burns, cuts and stomach aches, but
I don't know as it would be safe to give him anything when he has a
fever."
"Have you got anything for a fever?" inquired Ned.
"Yes, some of those little, white tasteless pills, that come in small
bottles. Homeopathic remedies they call 'em. I'll read the directions."
At that instant Fenn murmured something.
"He's talking!" exclaimed Frank, listening at the flap of the tent.
"Water, mother. Give me a drink of water," spoke the sick boy.
"He thinks he's home," said Ned.
"Here, I'll get him a drink, and you read the directions on that bottle
of pills," directed Bart. "Maybe we can give him some."
Fenn drank thirstily of the spring water Bart carried in to him,
scarcely opening his eyes, and, when he did, he did not know his chum.
"The smugglers!" exclaimed the now delirious youth. "We'll catch 'em!
Don't let Ruth fall into the cave. Look out!"
The boys were much frightened, especially Ned and Bart. Frank, from the
experience he had had with his father, knew a little more than did the
others about cases of illness. He read what it said on the bottle of
pills and decided it would be safe to give Fenn several of the pellets.
"Now, we'd better get the camp in shape for night," said Frank. "We've
got to stay here until morning, no matter what happens. We can't move
Fenn until he's better."
"Maybe he'll not get better," remarked Ned, rather gloomily.
"Oh, cut out such ideas," advised Frank. "He'll be all right. Probably
his stomach is upset. Now hustle around and get a fire going. I want
some hot coffee, and so do you. Then we'll all feel better, after a bit
of grub."
Once Bart and Ned had something definite to do they did not worry so
much about Fenn. Frank took a look at him, now and then, in the midst of
the work of making the camp.
"He's asleep," he announced after one inspection. "I think his fever's
going down some."
"That's good," commented Bart, his face losing some of its worried look.
The boys ate a hasty supper and then made a more comfortable bed for
Fenn. The tent was big enough for all four to stretch out under it, but
the three chums decided they would take turns sitting up, in order to
administer to the sick lad.
Frank gave him some more medicine during the night, and, by twelve
o'clock, Fenn was somewhat better, though he still had a fever.
It seemed that morning would never come, but, at length, there shone
through the forest a pale, gray light, that turned to one of rosy hue,
and then the golden sunbeams streamed through the trees.
"Thank goodness the night's gone," exclaimed Ned, who had the last
watch. "It seems as if we'd been here a week, instead of a few hours."
"How is he?" asked Bart of Frank, who had assumed the role of doctor.
"No worse, at any rate," he said, as he felt of his chum's head.
"Do you think we ought to get a physician?"
"I think we'll see how he is to-day," answered Frank. "If he doesn't get
any worse I believe it will work off. I'll give him some more medicine."
There must have been some virtue in the pills, for, by noon, Fenn's skin
was much cooler, and he had began to perspire, a sure sign that the
fever was broken. His mind, too, was clear.
"What's the matter? What happened?" he asked. "Was I sick?"
"I guess it was a little touch of sun-stroke," replied Frank with a
laugh. "How do you feel?"
"Pretty good, only weak. I'm hungry and thirsty."
"That's a good sign. I guess we can fix you up."
Fenn made a fairly good meal on canned chicken and some biscuits which
Ned concocted out of a package of prepared flour.
"I think I can get up now," announced the sick youth, as he finished the
last of his meal.
"No you don't!" exclaimed Frank. "I'm the trained nurse in charge
to-day, and you stay in the tent until night, anyhow."
Fenn wanted to disobey, but he found he was weaker than he thought, so
he was glad to stretch out on the blanket, spread over the fragrant
hemlock boughs. He was so much better by night that the boys were
practically assured he was out of danger. They felt correspondingly
happy, and prepared as fine a meal as they could in celebration of the
event.
Fenn ate sparingly, however, and then fell off into a sound, healthful
sleep. His three comrades took turns during the night watch, but there
was nothing for them to do, save, now and then, to replenish the camp
fire.
The next day Fenn was so much better that he insisted on getting up, but
he did not have much ambition to do things.
"We'll go hunting, as soon as you are able," announced Frank, after
breakfast. "Our pantry isn't very well stocked."
"Don't wait for me," urged Fenn. "Go ahead. I can stay in camp, and look
after things while you three are gone. I'll take my turn at hunting a
little later."
At first the boys would not hear of this, but, after Fenn pointed out
that they must have stuff to eat, they agreed to go hunting the next
day, leaving him alone in camp, if it was found, by morning, that he was
well enough.
Fortunately this proved to be the case and Ned, Frank and Bart, carrying
the guns they had hired in Duluth, started off, cautioning Fenn to take
care of himself, and not to wander away from the tent.
"We'll be back as soon as we have shot something to eat," promised Bart.
It was rather lonesome in camp for Fenn, after his chums had left. At
first he sat in front of the tent, watching the antics of some squirrels
who, emboldened by hunger, came quite close to pick up crumbs. Fenn
scorned to shoot at them.
"I think I'm strong enough to take a little walk," decided the youth,
after an hour or so of idleness. "It will do me good. Besides, I want to
get a line on just where that cliff is, on which we saw the queer men."
He started off, and found he had regained nearly all his former strength.
It was a fine day, and pleasant to stroll through the woods.
Fenn wandered on, aiming for the lake, which was some distance away from
where the tent was pitched. Suddenly, as he was going through a little
glade, he heard a noise on the farther side of the clearing, as though
some one had stepped on, and broken, a tree branch. Looking quickly up
he saw, half screened by a clump of bushes, two Chinamen, and a white
man.
The odd trio, whose advance had alarmed Fenn, stopped short. Then one of
the Celestials muttered some lingo to the other. An instant later the
three drew back in the bushes, and Fenn could hear them hurrying away.
"I'm on the track of the smugglers!" he exclaimed. "I'm going to follow
them and see where they go! I must be nearer the cliff than I thought."
Off Fenn started, after the three men. If he had known what lay before
him he would have hesitated a long time before doing what he did. But
Fenn did not know.