“Swallow this milk,” sez Horace holdin’ some of it out to him in a big spoon. Kit had made Olaf start to milkin’ a cow, ’cause she wanted to use milk in cookin’, and intended to make butter when she had the cream saved up. Badger put the milk in his mouth, an’ then spit it out again.
“Don’t you put anything else in my mouth,” he sez. “I told you I was goin’ to die; an’ by blank, I am goin’ to die.”
“Fellers,” sez Horace, turnin’ to us, “do you think this man is goin’ to die?” We all nodded our heads. “Then, will you give his life to me, to do with as I will?” asked Horace; and we nodded our heads again.
Horace took off his coat, an’ rolled up his sleeves, an’ then he came over an’ shook Badger-face by the shoulder. “Listen to me,” he sez. “I fought ya once before, for your life, and I’m goin’ to fight you for it now. Do you hear what I say—I’m goin’ to fight you for your own life. I’m goin’ to make you swallow milk, if I have to tie you an’ pour it in through a funnel. You can’t hold your breath an’ fight, an’ I’m goin’ to fight you.”
Badger-face opened his eyes an’ looked up into Horace’s face. He looked a long time, an’ the ghost of a smile crept into his face. “Well, you’re the doggonedest little cuss I ever saw!” he exclaimed. He waited a long time, an’ then set his teeth. “You beat me once,” he muttered. “Now, see if you can beat me again.”
It was after midnight; so when Horace dropped the hint that he wouldn’t need any help except from me an’ the Friar, the rest o’ the boys dug out for the bunk shack. Then Horace took us over to the fireplace an’ asked us what was the best thing to do.
“I do believe ’at you have stumbled on the right plan to save him,” sez the Friar. “He has no fever, the wound is doin’ splendid, and he has a powerful constitution. The trouble is that he does not will to live. We must spur on his will, and if we can make him fight back, this’ll help. Also we must control him as much as possible through suggestion. Have you any plan o’ your own?”
“No,” sez Horace candidly. Horace didn’t need anything for any emergency except his own nerve. “I am determined that he must live, but I have no plan.”
“The first thing is to give him a little warm milk,” sez the Friar.
“All right,” sez Horace. “You tell me what to do—by signs, as much as possible—but let me give the orders to Badger-face. My size has made an impression on him, and we can’t afford to lose a single trick.” The Friar agreed to this an’ we went back to the bunk.