By this time Mrs. Cameron was back with the various articles required, and she knelt down with the basin in her lap as the doctor took a little wide-mouthed bottle from her hand, removed the stopper, shook out a tiny stick of white, sugar-looking crystal, and after moistening the end, liberally used it in and about the mouth of the wound.
"Hurt you, my boy?" said Cameron sharply, as Harry lay back, with his eyes tightly closed.
"Horribly," was the reply. "Feels like red-hot iron."
"Do you good, boy. Act like a stimulus. Now, can you walk indoors?"
"I think so."
"One moment. You, Phra, run up and tell Mr. Kenyon to come here directly."
"No, no," cried Harry; "don't do that. It would frighten him."
"He must be told, Hal, my lad. Go, Phra."
The boy addressed pointed to his foot.
"If I let its head go, it will sting," he said.