“But it may be poisoned.”
“I don’t think so. Ino is trying to help us. Maybe his herbs will do Hap some good.”
“It’s a cinch something has to be done,” added Jack. “The tea probably won’t do any harm, and it may help.”
Mr. Livingston himself reached out, and with a trembling hand, took the gourd. He sipped the hot liquid cautiously and made a wry face. Then he slowly drained the entire gourd. A few minutes later, as the Scouts anxiously watched, he dropped off into deep sleep.
“Hap’s been drugged,” Willie asserted. “He may never come out of it.”
“He seems to be sleeping quite naturally,” Ken observed. “Take it easy, Willie. I have a hunch this old medicine boy knows his stuff.”
“I’d like to get a peep beneath that animal mask he wears,” Jack muttered. “I have a notion to—”
A quick shake of the head from Ken made him change his mind about trying to expose the native’s face to view. Sober thought convinced him that any such action would be sheer folly.
The medicine man remained a few minutes longer in the hut, briefly examining Pedro. He nodded approvingly at the manner in which Ken and Jack had set the guide’s leg, and then vanished.
“You know, Ino isn’t as dumb as he pretends,” Jack declared when the native had gone. “He’s been around white folks—you can tell that from the way he acts and the manner in which he danced.”