"How do you mean?"
I learnt from him that the strength supplied now was too caustic.
"Some picric acid is what you want on there now."
"You haven't got any, I suppose?"
"What are you thinking of? I've got a little bit of everything!"
He went off and soon came back, with a small bottle and a brush which he carefully took out of a glass tube.
"Stings a bit, doesn't it?"
He had also brought a bit of linen. He deftly bound up my ankle. I admired his dexterity.
"Where did you learn it?"
"Hunting, of course! That's the way to get sprains."