"Here we have," said the man of drugs, "some three drachms of saltpeter in solution, of which, by and by, you may take about one sixth, letting it gargle your throat going down. Peter, is the water hot?"
"Yes, broder, water boilin' hover. What do with him now?"
"I want to soak his feet; but what shall we do it in? I can fill my seal-skin boots, but they would be awkward."
"There's the ammunition bucket," suggested Regnie.
"That was made to hold peas and such like, and leaks like a sieve."
"Put the rubber blanket around it," interposed the patient.
"That's the idea," said La Salle. And hanging up one of the bird-skin rugs in its place, the "mackintosh" was drawn and carefully knotted around the rim of the shaky receptacle. Into this the hot water was poured, and being duly tempered to a safe degree of heat, Waring removed his boots and stockings, and, seated on a couple of decoys, bathed his feet and ankles for about fifteen minutes.
In the mean time, the portion of the sleeping-room farthest from the door, was carefully fitted with dry twigs and one of the bird-skin coverlets, and the lad's stockings were thoroughly dried at the stove until they felt warm and comfortable. Taking one of the discarded cotton-flannel shooting-gowns, duly warmed at the fire, La Salle and Regnar carefully and energetically dried and rubbed Waring's extremities, now warmed and suffused with blood drawn from the overtaxed blood-vessels of the head and body, after which his warmed and dried foot-gear were replaced, and he was tucked away in his berth.
"Does your chest pain you at all, George?" asked his attendant, as he drew the thick feather covering over the sick boy.
"No; but my throat does a little. It feels much better, though, than it did."