Then, taking his
own coffee, he lay down on Hobbs' bed.
"Harry," he said, "give us every minute of sleep you can. Wake us just
one-half hour before reveille with coffee and everything else good you
can rustle, and, Harry, waken me before Mr. Cameron."
When he lay down to sleep he made an amazing discovery--that his own
horror and fear and self-distrust had entirely passed away. He felt
himself quite prepared to "carry on." How had this thing come to pass?
His physical recuperation by means of coffee and food? This doubtless in
part, but only in part. In his concern for his friend he had forgotten
himself, and in forgetting himself he had forgotten his fear. It was an
amazing discovery.
"Thank the good God," he said. "He never forgets a fellow, and I won't
forget that."
He woke to find Hobbs at his side, with coffee, toast and bacon, and on
the floor beside his cot his tub awaiting him--the tub being a rubber
receptacle exactly eighteen inches in diameter.
He hurried through his dressing, and his breakfast, all the while
Cameron lying like a dead man, and with almost a dead man's face.
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