CHAPTER XVIII.
DISPOSING OF UNWELCOME NEIGHBORS.
“To begin with,” said Grant, “I told you that I didn’t think the Dutchman was as sleepy as he looked, but I’ll confess I never reckoned him capable of putting up a joke of this sort.”
“Joke!” rasped Crane, shaking with mingled pain and wrath. “I don’t see no joke abaout it.”
“You cuc-can’t see very well, anyhow,” reminded Springer. “One of your eyes is plumb buttoned up. You’re a spectacle.”
“Yeou don’t have to tell me. Say, ain’t there nothing I can put on to stop the smarting? What are you all standin’ around for? Want to see me perish in horrible agony right before yeour eyes? Why don’t yeou do something?”
It is always advisable for campers, when planning to spend some time in the woods, to include in their outfit a medicine case containing such simple remedies as may be needed; but, unfortunately, the Oakdale boys had failed to provide anything of the sort. Therefore they were now at a loss to know what could be done to alleviate Crane’s sufferings, but presently Grant thought of something, and, taking care not to attract the still whirling and whirring hornets, he went back into the shadows of the woods and procured two heaping handfuls of soft, moist earth, which, as well as possible, was presently bound or plastered upon Crane’s wounds.
“Wait till I ketch that Dutchman!” Sile kept muttering through his set teeth.
“Keep still,” advised Rod. “The bandage will hold those dirt poultices over your eye and behind your ear, but you’ll shake off the dabs I’ve stuck to your jaw and in other places, if you keep on talking.”
So Sile relapsed into silence, save for an occasional bitter groan, and the others took into consideration the problem of getting rid of the hornets.