Two minutes after that Tom Reade commenced to retch violently. With a memory of the messes that he had swallowed he didn’t wonder. The squaw now stepped outside, calling for coffee. This was brought. Tom was obliged to drink several cupfuls, after which he began to feel decidedly more comfortable. “Now, take nap,” advised the squaw, and quitted the tent. “The bronze lady seems to know what she’s doing,” thought Tom. “I guess I’ll take the whole of her course of treatment.” Thereupon he turned his face to the wall. Within sixty seconds he slept. “How’s Reade?” demanded Harry, rising eagerly as the squaw stepped inside the chief’s tent. “He sleep,” muttered the squaw. “He---he---isn’t dead!” choked Harry, turning deathly pale. “You think I make death medicine?” demanded the squaw scornfully. “You think me heap fool?” “The young man will be all right, squaw?” asked Mr. Thurston. “Humph! Maybe,” grunted the red woman. “Yes, I think so. You know bimeby.” “That’s the Indian contempt for death,” explained the chief engineer, turning to Harry. “I imagine that Reade is doing all right, or she wouldn’t have left him.” However, Hazelton was not satisfied with that. He slipped out, crossed camp and stealthily peeped inside of the tent. Then Hazelton slipped back to Mr. Thurston to report. “If Tom doesn’t swallow some of those big snores of his, and choke to death, I think he’ll get well,” said Harry, with a laugh that testified to the great relief that had come to his feelings. With that all hands had to be content for the time being. CHAPTER VIII ’GENE BLACK, TROUBLE-MAKER In the morning Tom Reade declared that he was all right. The old Indian squaw had pronounced him safe, and had gone on her way. “You’ll stay in camp today, Reade,” announced Mr. Thurston, dropping into the mess tent. “With all the work there is ahead of us, sir?” cried Reade aghast. “That’s why you’ll stay,” nodded Mr Thurston. “Your life has been saved, but after the shock you had yesterday you’re not as strong as you may feel. One day of good rest in camp will fit you for what’s ahead of us in the days to come. The strain of tramping miles and working like a steam engine all day is not to be thought of for you today. Tomorrow you’ll go out with the rest.” Tom sighed. True, he did not feel up to the mark, and was eating a very light breakfast. Still he chafed at the thought of inaction for a whole day. “The chief wouldn’t order you to stay in,” remarked Blaisdell, after Mr. Thurston had gone, “unless he knew that to be the best thing for you.” So, after the engineers, their chainmen and rodmen had left camp Tom wandered about disconsolately. He tried to talk to the cook, but Jake and his helper were both rushed in getting the meal that was to be taken out over the trail by burro train. “Lonely, Reade?” called the chief from his tent. “Yes, sir,” Tom nodded. “I wish I had something to do.” “Perhaps I can find work for you in here. Come in.”