doctor was inventorying the surgical supplies remaining. "Some one was hurt."
Latham, assisting Koehler, took a tin can from a shelf. It was empty, judging from its lightness, but was tightly closed. He pulled off the cover.
"Here's their message!" He pulled paper from the tin. "Thomas was the one that lived last! This must be his writing. It's not Hedon's."
The doctor took the paper from him. "That's neither Thomas' nor Hedon's," he said shortly. "That's mine."
"Yours?"
"Our message we left here. I wrote it and sealed it in that can. Thomas and Hedon—or whoever got here—undoubtedly opened the can and read that, then put it back. They'd write their own report independently, not knowing what a storm might do to this hut. They've added nothing to this."
Latham went to the door.
"Where're you going?" asked Geoff.
"Up the hill to the cross to see if it tells anything."
