r. I am well aware
that you had the time of your life in doing it."

"I might have had the time of my life," returned Harry, with an
imitation of his chum's calmness, "if there had been more excitement
about it. It was all rather dull, wasn't it, old chap?"

Smiling, both stepped inside. Then Tom's face became grave when he saw
that the rescued laborer had not yet recovered consciousness.

"Somewhere in the world," murmured Reade, as he dropped to one knee and
rested a finger-tip on the laborer's pulse, "there's someone--a woman,
or a child, or a white-haired old man--who wouldn't wish us to let this
man die. What have you men been doing for him?"

Before the answer could be given a honk sounded at the door. Then a
young doctor clad in white duck and carrying a three-fold medicine case,
stepped inside.

"Sucked down by the sand and hauled out again, Doc," Tom explained.

The physician looked closely at his patient and Harry drove out the men
who had no especial business there.

"A little pin-head of glonoin on his tongue for a beginning," decided
the physician, opening his case. From one of the vials he took a small
pellet, forcing it between the lips of the unconscious man. Then, with
his stethoscope, he listened for the heart beats.

"Another glonoin, and then we'll start in to wake up our friend," said
the young doctor in white duck, after a pause.

Two or three minutes later the laborer opened his eyes.

"You've been trying not to hear the whistle," laughed the doctor gently.
"A big fellow like you must be up and doing."

Ten minutes later the doctor found Tom outside.

"The man will be all right now, with a little stuff that I'll leave for
him," smiled the visitor. "Of course there's some man in camp who can
look after a comrade to-night?"

"Doc, couldn't you do a better job if you had the man in Paloma under
your own eyes tonight?" Tom questioned.

"Yes; undoubtedly."

"Can you take him?"

"Yes."

"Then do so. Give him all the attention he needs. Make out your bill
to the A. G. & N. M. Hand it to me, and I'll O.K. it and send it in to
headquarters for payment. If you think an automobile ride after dark
will do the poor chap good, give him one and put that in your bill,
too."

"Reade, I want to shake hands with you," said the physician earnestly.
"I've looked after railroad hands before, but this is the first time I
was ever asked to be humane to one. Have no fear but I'll send this man
back