Dr. Rackett pressed the bruised chin, pressed the mouth open, and poured a little liquor down Jack's throat. There was no response. He poured a little more whiskey. There came a slight choking sound, and then the one dark-blue eye opened vacant. It stared in vacancy for some moments, while everybody stood with held breath. Then the whiskey began to have effect. Life seemed to give a movement of itself, in the boy's body, and the wide-open eye took a conscious direction. It stared straight into the eyes of Easu, who stood there looking down, detached, in humiliation, derision, and uneasiness. It stared with a queer, natural recognition, and a faint jeering, uneasy grin was the reflex on Easu's disfigured mask.
"Guess he's had enough for once," said Easu, and turning, he picked up his horse's reins, dropped into the saddle, and rode straight away.
"Feel bad?" Dr. Rackett asked.
"Rotten!" said Jack.
And at last Lennie recognised the voice. He could not recognise the face, especially with that bunged-up eye peering gruesomely through a gradually diminished slit, Hun-like.
Dr. Rackett smiled slightly.
"Where's your pain?" he asked.
Jack thought about it. Then he looked into Rackett's eyes without answering.
"Think you can stand?" said Rackett.
"Try me."