"You keep his nose out of the sand by putting his own arm under his own forehead, thus making him useful. Fixed this way his tongue slips forward and the water in his mouth will run out. Sometimes this is enough. If it isn't, then turn the patient on his side—" he rolled Ethel Blue on edge—"and try to arouse breathing by putting ammonia under his nose or tickling his nose and throat with a feather. Somebody ought to be rubbing his face and chest all the time and throwing dashes of cold water on them."
"Poor lamb!"
"If he doesn't begin to breathe promptly under these kind attentions then you must try artificial breathing."
"Artificial breathing—make-believe breathing! How do you do that?"
"Don't let people crowd around and cut off the air. Turn him on his face again,"—and over went Ethel Blue—"putting something thick like this rolled up coat under his chest to keep it off the ground."
"Umph—that's a relief!" grunted Ethel Blue.
"Then roll him gently on to his side and then forward on to his face once more. Move him once in every four slow counts. Every time he goes on to his face give him a vigorous rub between the shoulder blades."
"Ow, ow," ejaculated Ethel Blue ungratefully.
"It must take a lot of people to do all these things," commented Ethel Brown.
"Three if you can get them; one to turn him and rub his back, one to keep his head off the ground as he is rolled over, and the third to dry his feet and try to warm them."