“How did you manage to set the ribs?” said Brace, noting that the captain’s decisive way influenced his brother.
“Made ’em set themselves, squire. I gave him as much as he could eat, and then made him draw in as much air as he could and hold it while I put a great broad bandage round him. I had a piece of canvas pierced with eye-holes, and laced it up tight about his chest with a bit o’ yarn. He came right again in no time. So will you, sir. All you want for this arm is rest, plenty of cold bathing, and clean bandages. Nature will soon heal that up. How does the sponging feel?”
“Delightful!” said the patient.
“And what about your head?”
“Very bad.”
“Cup of tea will soon set that right, sir; but I meant your thinking apparatus—let’s have some more water, squire. There, I’ll hold his arm over the basin, and you trickle it on from the spout of the can gently. That’ll make the muscles contract healthily and help the swelling to go down.”
“Most comforting!” said Sir Humphrey, with a sigh of relief. “But what did you mean about my thinking apparatus?”
“Not going to fancy your wound’s poisoned, are you?”
“N–no,” said the patient, hesitating. “I suppose I need not fidget about that?”
“Not a bit, sir,” said the captain gruffly, as he went on busying himself about the wound. “I daresay there was something on the arrow-head, but squire here cleansed the wound beautifully, and you can see for yourself that this side is all right, and take our word for it that the other looks just the same. Now, squire, we’ll have some of that lint on, and a light bandage to keep it clean and cool. He’ll have the arm in a sling and hold it still, so that there’s no fear of any more bleeding, and it will heal up again in a very short time.”