Jak quickly dragged his large first-aid kit from its place in the wall cupboard, and opened it. "Lie down on the bunk, and I'll fix you up," he said as he took out tubes of unguents, bottles of antiseptic and rolls of bandages and plasters from the kit. "Golly, kid, I had no idea you were in that shape, or I'd have done this before."
Jon gritted his teeth as the other gently felt to see if any ribs were broken, and later as Jak applied the healing lotions and sometimes smarting antiseptics. But he could not entirely restrain his exclamations of pain, although he muffled them with his pillow lest their mother hear and come to investigate. He knew his brother was being sympathetically gentle, and when at last it was done, Jon did feel easier. The burning had largely stopped, and some of the ache was gone.
"I'd better give you some barbit so you'll sleep sounder." Jak shook two small pills from a bottle. "The calmer you sleep, the less you'll mess up those dressings, and the quicker you'll heal."
He got a glass of water and Jon took the pills and washed them down. "You do have your uses now and then," he growled, but the grateful look in his eyes belied the ungraciousness of his words—and Jak was well content.
In the morning much of the soreness and discoloration was gone, and there was no sign of inflammation or pus. After Jak had again tended to the abrasions and friction sores, the two boys dressed and went in to breakfast.
Their mother was in good spirits. "Mr. C.'s breathing seems much easier than it was," she announced with delight.
They all went in to see him, and while Jak was redressing the now almost healed head wound, Jon looked on happily.
"Won't be long now." He hugged his mother joyfully.
"I hope not," she sighed. "He does seem to be getting better, though."