It was a ghastly and horrible sight. Roland looked at Dick.
"Dick," he said, "the man knew it was poisoned."
"Better he should die than Brawn."
"Infinitely," said Roland.
[CHAPTER XIX--STRUGGLING ONWARDS UP-STREAM]
"But," said Roland, "it would be a pity to let even Peter die, as we may have need of him. Let us send for Charlie at once. Perhaps he can tell us of an antidote."
The Indian was not far off.
"Fire-water", was his reply to Dick's question, "and dis."
"Dis" was the contents of a tiny bottle, which he speedily rubbed into the wound in Peter's hand.
The steward, as one of the men was called, quickly brought a whole bottle of rum, the poisoned man's jaws were forced open, and he was literally drenched with the hot and fiery spirit.