"At any rate, Harry won't come back until he has it.

He won't bring back merely an excuse when his commission was for a ton of ice." Tom wandered into the new headquarters' tent, heaved a big sigh as the weight of his new responsibilities struck him with full force, and began a systematic examination of all the piles of papers and maps now under his charge.
By nine o'clock Harry Hazelton and his guide returned, followed by a four-mule transport wagon.
Tom, hearing the approach, came out and beckoned.

Harry rode up, dismounting.
"Well, I got the ice, you see," announced Hazelton.
"Did you have to go very far for it ?" "No; but you and I forgot to allow for the time that mules would need for rest on such a steep, uphill climb.

Where is the ice to go ?" "Send the man over to Jake Wren.

Jake knows more about such things than you or I will know within the next ten years." Harry carried the order to the driver, then hurried back.
"How are our sick men ?" he asked.
"Both alive, but delirious.