Alf made a wry face, but knew he must obey Tom. So he stuck to the pellet until the last of it had dissolved on his tongue. The pellet was gone, but the taste wasn't.
"Ugh!" grunted the youngster.
"You said that before," urged Tom. "Try to be original. Want another pellet?"
"No; I don't. I wouldn't touch one again!"
"Don't happen to want a cigarette, either, do you?"
"I don't want anything, now, but just to get that taste out of my mouth," Alf uttered.
"All right; go over in the corner and keep quiet. Jim, do you know anything about the use of the medicines in this chest?"
"Not a blessed thing," Ferrers replied regretfully. "I never took as much as a pinhead of medicine in my life."
"But Harry must have something," Tom insisted. "We can't let him lie there and die."
It was one of those ready-made medicine chests that are sold to campers and others who must live at a considerable distance from medical aid. Finding a small book of instructions in the chest, Tom moved over under the strong light and settled himself to read thoughtfully.