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became dimly aware that he was climbing up from some great depth. It was hard work, and he felt as if he was lifting the whole world on his shoulders. No, it was all on one arm—his right—and the pain of it made him wince.

Then he realized that some one was calling him, shaking him, and he felt as if he had tumbled, head first, into some snow drift.

"Wake up, Tom! Are you all right, old man? What happened? Here, swallow some more water."

He opened his eyes. He saw in the darkness some one bending over him.

"What's the—where am" he began, and he was again seized with a feeling of weakness.

"You're all right, old chap," he heard some one saying. "You had a bad fall, that's all."

"Phil!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, it's me, Clinton. They tried to put me in there, but I fought 'em, and then there came a