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.