remarked Bert, "I
don't very well see how any of us could have much better appetites than
we have already."

"Yes, but if we didn't get all the exercise that we do, the appetites
might not last very long," replied Bert.

They did not prolong their ramble long enough to interfere with
breakfast, and got back to their quarters just in the nick of time.

"Another ten minutes," exclaimed Tom, "and we would have missed some of
the eats. We certainly do have close escapes from disaster at times."

"It would certainly have been an awful calamity," grinned Bert, "but I
think we must have some sixth sense that leads us back here in time for
meals. I don't remember that we have ever been late to one yet."

"No, and we're not going to be, if I can help it," said Dick, and they
all fell to in earnest.

Breakfast over, they selected a level spot not far from their quarters
and had a "catch." Bert found his arm somewhat rusty, as he had not done
any pitching to speak of for quite a while, but soon limbered up, and
began "shooting them over" in his old time form. The morning passed
quickly in the pursuit of this and other athletic exercises, and after a
light luncheon the three comrades set out to visit Mr. Hartley in
accordance with the plan they had formed the day before.

It was not a long walk to the engineer's tent, and they made short work
of it. Needless to say, Mr. Hartley was more than glad to see them, and
expressed himself cordially.

"Sit down, sit down!" he said heartily, after he had shaken hands with
them. "I've been looking forward to this visit with great pleasure. I'm
used to a pretty active life, and I hate to be laid up even for a day.
The doctor tells me I've got to have a complete rest for a few days,
though, and I suppose he knows best."

"Well, the doctor isn't always right in these cases," said Bert, with a
smile, "although he probably is in this. I remember a good joke I heard
about that once."

"Go ahead and tell it to us," urged Mr. Hartley.

"Oh, it's about an Irishman, Mike we'll call him, who had been sick for a
long time. At last the day came, when, to all appearances, he had
finally given up the ghost, and the family physician was as called in
more as a matter of form than anything else. He made the customary
tests, and at last pronounced poor Mike dead. But just then Mike
suddenly sat up in bed. 'You're a liar, docther!' he said. 'Oi'm not dead
at all, at all.' But at this poin