Walter had been hurrying as fast as he could, and he soon appeared bearing a hatful of ripe palmetto berries. His riddled shoes and bleeding feet told of reckless running over the sharp rocks.
Charley smashed the ripe berries between two stones, catching the juice in his cap. Chris' teeth were tightly set, but he managed to pry them apart with his knife blade and forced some of the sticky liquid down his throat.
"I don't know whether it will help him or not, but I am in hopes it will," he said, as, tired out, he sat down by the little fellow's side. "Those berries make a powerful tonic and stimulant, and I believe that is what is needed. The poison seems to have deadened the heart's action and brought on that stupor. A few minutes will tell whether it is going to do any good."
It soon became evident that the rude remedies were performing their mission well, the sufferer's pulse, which had grown slow and feeble, quickened, and his little face began to lose some of its ashen hue.
As soon as he became sure that a change for the better was taking place, Charley arose from his brief rest.
"I am going to find help," he declared. "We must get him to some place where he can have proper attention. How far do you think we are from Judson, Captain?"
"Not more than twenty miles to the north of it, I judge. Maybe not more than ten miles. But you must not dream of starting yet awhile, lad. You must rest for a bit, an' have something to eat first."
"And I am going with you when you start," Walter declared. "Something might happen to you amongst those slippery rocks and awful bog holes. The Captain can do all that can be done for Chris while you are gone."