“God above! The curse—retribution!”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, captain, drop all that nonsense!” flared out the doctor from taut nerves. “This is no time for your infernal superstitions! We’ve got all we can handle without cluttering things up with a mess of rubbish. We’ve got a long, hard fight on our hands.”
“I know. But you can save him, doctor! You must!”
“I’ll do all in human power. This wound here I’m not in a position to deal with. Your local doctor can attend to that. It isn’t the vital feature of this case. The poison is!”
“You’ve got a remedy for that, haven’t you? You said you had!”
“Do you realize it’s been an hour, perhaps, since this wound was made? If the curaré had been fresh and new—” He finished with an expressive gesture. “It’s old and dried, and some of it must have been worn off the blade. Perhaps, not a great deal got into the cut. There’s a chance, a fighting chance—perhaps.”
“Then the remedy! Quick, doctor! Get it, make it!”
“I’ve got to wait till the physician comes. I’ve got no drugs with me.”
“Will he have the right ones?”
“They’re common enough. It all depends on the formula, the exact mixture.”