“Well, so it is,” said Bowls. “By the way, I would advise you to try a little of that wonderful salve invented by a Yankee for such cases.”
“Wot salve wos that?” asked Tom gruffly, for the pain of his wound was evidently pretty severe.
“Why, the growin’ salve, to be sure,” replied Bill. “Everybody must have heard of it.”
“I never did,” said Tom. “Did you, Ben?”
“No, never; wot is it?”
“It’s a salve for growin’ on lost limbs,” said Bill. “The Yankee tried it on a dog that had got its tail cut off. He rubbed a little of the salve on the end of the dog, and a noo tail grow’d on next mornin’!”
“Gammon!” ejaculated Tom Riggles.
“True, I assure ye, as was proved by the fact that he afterwards rubbed a little of the salve on the end of the tail, and a noo dog growed on it in less than a week!”
“H’m! I wonder,” said Tom, “if he was to rub some of it inside o’ your skull, whether he could grow you a noo set o’ brains.”
“I say, Bill,” interposed Ben Bolter, “did you hear the first lieutenant say where he intended to steer to?”