"Ugh," grunted the medicine man with a shake of his head, as he slowly began drawing a variety of herbs from his belt. These he quickly meshed together with a stone, and, forming them into a poultice applied it to the wounds of Frank James.
The latter let out a yell and tugged at his gun.
But Tony anticipating just such a move, closed over his wrist in a vice-like grip.
"Easy pard," he cautioned. "The poultice is drawing out the pizen. It won't hurt but a minute, will it old sawbones?" peering up into the savage face before him for confirmation of his words.
"White man cry out, then hurt go way," grunted the savage.
"There, what did I tell you," chortled Tony. "Poultice goes on, you yell like—like—like you did, and pain goes away. That's it."
"Oh, shut up," snarled Frank, the lines of his face drawing sharply under the excruciating pain he was enduring.
"How—how long is this going to keep up?" he demanded.
"Yes, when can the captain get out again?" chimed in Homely Harry.