“We’ve got to do something to bring that down,” remarked Jerry. “What did they give you when you were sick, Ned?” and Jerry looked at his chum.
“It’s so long since I was sick I’ve forgotten,” was the answer. “Have we any medicine at all?”
“Mother made me bring some quinine along, and a few other things, like witch hazel and sticking plaster, but I don’t believe any of them are good for fevers. I’ll look in the box.”
Jerry proceeded to investigate the small case of simple remedies his mother had packed, but which had never been opened. The chums were seldom ill, and when they were they usually let nature adjust itself. But they realized that something must be done for Bob.
“‘Spirits of nitre,’” read Ned from the label of one of the bottles. “Say, Jerry, this is the stuff for fevers. I remember my mother used to use it when I was a little chap. Let’s give him some.”
Jerry read the label on the bottle. The nitre, according to the directions, was good for fevers and they decided to give Bob a larger dose than was called for, as they had an idea the stuff was for children, and that a full grown youth would need more.
Anxiously they waited for the remedy to have some effect. Every now and then they would place their hands on Bob’s head or wrist to note the warmth of his body. To their worriment he seemed to be getting hotter instead of cooler. The fever indeed was rising fast and poor Bob was in a bad way.
“Doesn’t seem to be strong enough,” said Jerry after three hours of dreary watching. They had dressed and sat in the tent which was dimly lighted by a lantern.
“Let’s give him some more,” Ned suggested.
Another dose was administered, though Bob fought against taking it. The youth was hardly conscious of what he was doing. He lay with closed eyes, his face red and flushed from the fever, and his breath coming in short, labored gasps.