For once, at any rate, they were doing something useful.
At a signal from Dick, Greg put some water on the stove to heat.
Prescott found some clean cloth in their wardrobe box and bathed the wound on Mr.Hinman's temple, then washed his entire face.
The wound proved to be broad, rather than deep, and was such as might have been caused by falling on sharp pebbles.

Then Dick bound up the wound.
Next, Dick and Greg undressed Mr.Hinman and rubbed him down, then rolled him in dry blankets and laid him on another cot not far from the stove.
"Come out, you other hoboes," called the boss tramp's voice.
"Come and help us right the peddler's wagon and bring that and the horse up here." The other two tramps went reluctantly out into the storm.
A bottle full of hot water, wrapped in a towel, was placed at the peddler's feet.
In the meantime the tramps got the wagon into a sheltered position, then staked the horse out close to the place where the Gridley horse was tethered.

This having been accomplished, they came back to the camp, to find a new aroma on the air.
"That stuff smells good.

What is it ?" asked the boss tramp.
"Ginger tea.

We've made some to give to Mr.Hinman." "Will you give us some, too ?" asked the tramp.