“What’s that on your leg?” asked Oscar, stooping to pick from Sandy’s leg a long, brown object looking like a flat worm. To the boys’ intense astonishment, the thing would not come off, but stretched out several inches in length, holding on by one end.
Sandy howled with pain. “It is something that bites,” he cried. 163
“And there’s another,––and another! Why, he’s covered all over with ’em!” exclaimed Oscar.
Sure enough, the lad’s legs, if not exactly covered, were well sprinkled with the things.
“Scrape ’em off with your knife!” cried Sandy.
Oscar usually carried a sheath-knife at his belt, “more for the style of the thing, than use,” he explained; so with this he quickly took off the repulsive creatures, which, loosening their hold, dropped to the ground limp and shapeless.
“Leeches,” said Charlie, briefly, as he poked one of them over with a stick. The mystery was explained, and wherever one of them had been attached to the boy’s tender skin, blood flowed freely for a few minutes, and then ceased. Even on one or two of the birds they found a leech adhering to the feathers where the poor thing’s blood had followed the shot. Picking up the game, the two boys escorted the elated Sandy to the cabin, where his unexpected adventures made him the hero of the day.
“Couldn’t we catch some of those leeches and sell them to the doctors?” asked the practical Oscar.
His father shook his head. “American wild leeches like those are not good for much, my son. I don’t know why not; but I have been told that only the imported leeches are used by medical men.”
“Well,” said Sandy, tenderly rubbing his 164 wounded legs, “if imported leeches can bite any more furiously than these Kansas ones do, I don’t want any of them to tackle me! I suppose these were hungry, though, not having had a taste of a fresh Illinois boy lately. But they didn’t make much out of me, after all.”