would die down, and the cold would wake her. Rick would feed the fire, and that would wake her also. Joe cried out in pain whenever something touched his wounded arm. Twice, he shivered so violently that he woke her. When light returned, Con felt she had scarcely slept.
Rick woke with the light and used the last of the driftwood to build the fire up. He set up the skin to make broth. Once again, it would be necessary to stretch their rations. The nightstalker had been starving and had yielded little meat. He looked at Con as she stared bleary-eyed from the tent. Dark circles surrounded her eyes. He hoped their sunken appear-ance was an illusion caused by the circles, but her cheek-bones seemed sharper also. She dully watched him cook without saying anything. Joe still burned with fever, and his flesh, too, seemed to be melting away. Rick could tell they were not going any-where that day. His best strategy would be to gather drift-wood. He thought that he could rig something with the travois poles and strips of cloth to carry bigger loads of wood. The warm broth seemed to perk Con up a little. She woke Joe and patiently fed him broth from the cupped palm of her hand. Joe was dazed and confused throughout his meal and went to sleep soon afterward.
'Sleep's the best thing for him,' said Rick. 'You look like you could use more, too.'
'I kept thinking about what he said last night,' said Con.
'He was out of his head,' said Rick. 'It was meaningless babble.'
'He thought Green was here,' said Con. 'Daddy, too, I think.'
'So?'
'Don't play dumb with me,' said Con irritably. 'Surely it's crossed your mind, too. Joe tricked Green and Daddy into that probe, knowing it wouldn't take them home.'
'You don't know that.'
'Well, he lied to somebody,' replied Con. 'Either to Green and Daddy or to you and me. He told us the probe wouldn't take us back.'
'It's a side of Joe I don't want to think about,' said Rick.
'But I have to,' said Con. 'It's eating me up.'
'There are so many possibilities,' said Rick. 'Joe helped Green... Joe tricked Green... Green tricked Joe. It's point- less to think about it. All I know is that Joe helped us.'
'It's not your father we're talking about,' retorted Con.
'You're right,' admitted Rick. 'It's not.' He pondered the situation for a minute before he spoke again.
'I'm going to have to get more wood. I plan to make a quick trip to get enough to keep the fire going while I make a long one to really stock up. I'll be gone most of the day. Considering what you suspect, how do you feel about staying with him?'
'I'll manage,' said Con.
Rick removed the two travois poles from the platform and tore strips of cloth from the scraps of a shirt to use in tying driftwood to the poles. When that was done, he bade Con good-bye and headed for the riverbank. The fire was almost completely out before he returned.
'How's Joe?' he asked.
'Still sleeping, but he doesn't look good. Even without taking off his jacket, I can tell his arm's all swollen. It smells bad, too, and he's still really hot.'
'Maybe we should look at his arm,' said Rick.
The 'jacket' consisted of two shirts stuffed with night-stalker down. Joe's arm had swollen until it was jammed in the sleeve like a sausage in a casing. The only way to remove the jacket was to cut it off. Yet, Rick and Con knew, once they had done that, they couldn't really treat the arm. They had only water and rags to fight the infection. All they would accomplish would be to deprive Joe of the jacket's warmth. In the end, they decided to leave it alone.
The most effective thing they could do was to maintain a fire to keep Joe warm. Con tended the fire and Joe, while Rick searched for more wood. He had been gone for almost an hour when Joe began to stir. Con lifted him partly upright and held a water bottle to his hot, dry lips. Joe drank, then slowly opened his eyes. 'Con,' he said in a hoarse voice.
'How do you feel?'
'Been better.'
