Rest was the best cure, but sick men were not wanted at the camp.

One must work or go, and when a cascade of gravel poured off the cars as the plow moved along he pulled himself together.
It began to rain soon afterwards and he had left his slickers at the bunk-house, but he stuck to his work, while the sweat the effort caused him ran down his face, until the whistle blew.

Then he went limply up the hill to Festing's shack.
"I thought I'd have supper with you, if you don't mind," he said.

"Felt I couldn't stand for joining the boys.

They've annoyed me all day and eat like hogs." Festing gave him a sharp glance.