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"Give me a hand up," said Ole Doc.
Smalley had watched child after child go peacefully to sleep and the blotches vanish and despite his air, he was too confused about Ole Doc not to obey the order. Ole Doc gripped the offered hand and came up over the ramp.
He was nearly back to the bungalow, with one of the guards tagging him when Smalley screamed. Ole Doc went back.
"What's the matter?" he asked solicitously.
"I'm poisoned!" screamed Smalley, sagging down and clawing at his helmet. His face was already turning red, his hands were covered with blotches.
"Well, before you pass out," said Ole Doc, "you'd better tell your guards that I'll have to treat you so they won't think I'm killing you and shoot me out of enthusiasm for their commander."
"Don't shoot him! Don't shoot him whatever he does!" screamed Smalley.
The guards stood well back, eight of them. It made them very nervous when Ole Doc had Hippocrates pass up a hypo gun and a syringe. It made them more nervous when Ole
