"Yes, sah, cum in."
A tall, double-jointed farm-hand came blustering into the room, his face covered with a yarn comforter. He slowly unwound the rag and brought to view the side of his face, swollen to a frightful size.
"Done busted me wide open; kin you pull her, doc?"
The old doctor examined the tooth and said, "You've got a tooth like a hoss—fix the chair in the back room, Brad."
Brad brought a washpan and placed it beside the chair. Doctor Hissong opened a drawer and brought forth an instrument that resembled a cant-hook, one of those tools used in overturning logs. This tooth extractor had a handle about six inches long, and a sort of steel hook on the end, and it would draw the tooth, if the jawbone did not break.
The suffering patient looked on with an expression on his face anything but pleasant.
"Looks like fixin' fer hog-killin', doc!"
"Well, I've known 'em to die under it," complacently said the old doctor as he shuffled about. "Give him a drink, Brad, and put him in the chair."
The patient stretched his long legs and rested his feet on a soap box.
"Fifty cents," said the doctor, as he approached with his instrument in his hand.