Without word said they looked at the little gray pills rolling about on the bottom of the box ... A remedy compounded by some man in a distant land famed for his wisdom ... And they felt the awe of the savage for his broth of herbs simmered on a night of the full moon beneath the medicineman's incantations.
Maria asked doubtfully: "Is it certain that her trouble has only to do with the kidneys?"
"I thought it was just that, from what Tit'Bé told me."
A motion of Chapdelaine's hand eked out his words.—"She strained herself lifting a bag of flour, as she says; and now she has pains everywhere. How can we tell ..."
"The newspaper that spoke of this medicine," Eutrope Gagnon went on, "put it that whenever a person falls sick and is in pain it is always the kidneys; and for trouble in the kidneys these pills here are first-rate. That is what the paper said, and my brother as well."
"Even if they are not for this very sickness," said Tit'Bé deferentially, "they are a remedy all the same."
"She suffers, that is one thing certain; we cannot let her go on like this."
They drew near the bed where the sick woman was moaning and breathing heavily, attempting from time to time to make slight movements which were followed by sharper outcries.
"Eutrope has brought you a cure, Laura."
"I have no faith in your cures," she groaned out. But yet she was ready to look at the little gray pills ever running round in the tin box as if they were alive.