"The wolf-bait! strychnine! "cried Squire and Flag, in tones of horror.
"What do you say? Was the meat poisoned?" asked Ed, piteously, his face and limbs fairly rigid with terror.
"What do you give for strychnine poison, Doc?" inquired Squire, with a sudden appearance of hopefulness. "It may not be too late to save him yet."
"But strychnine acts almost immediately," groaned Flag, despairingly.
"Oil! fat! lard! grease!" ejaculated Doc, rapidly. "We've got some lard and some oil; I'll try that."
While Doc plunged an iron spoon into the lard-can, Ed sat rocking himself to and fro on a bench, with his hands on his stomach, and an expression of agony upon his countenance.
"Oh, it's no use," said he, as Doc offered him a large spoonful of cold lard; "it's too late now; the poison has done its work. Oh, I am in such awful pain! Oh, dear! oh, dear! how could you be so careless?"
"Forgive me, Ed, before you die, if you do die; but perhaps you won't die, after all, old fellow," said Doc, affecting a cheerful manner. "Come, take this lard, quick—there's no time to lose; swallow it right down."
Dying though he believed he was, poor Ed found it hard work to get a quarter of a pound of cold lard down his throat. After swallowing a small portion of it he laid down on the bed in despair.
"Don't give up so, Ed," said Flag, kindly "take this oil, which is easier to swallow. Come, now, don't give up."
Thus urged, Ed made an effort, and swallowed the contents of an oil-cruet at one gulp.
"Isn't that enough to save me, Doctor?" he asked, writhing with imaginary pains and real sickness of stomach.
"I don't know; don't you feel any easier since the lard?"
"Oh, no, I don't feel any better at all. I believe if the lard was melted I could take it easier. Somebody rub my stomach for me, can't you?"
Squire and Flag proceeded to rub him as requested, while Doc melted some more lard in a tin cup over the flame of a candle, for the fire in the stove had all gone out.
I believe the rubbing does me good," gasped the poor victim, who could with difficulty get his breath under the vigorous treatment of his friends.
"I think it does," replied Doc; "and now if you can manage to get down a little more of this grease I guess we shall be able to save you."
Oh, Lord!" cried Ed, as his stomach heaved at the nauseous dose; "it is near about as bad as the poison."
"Never mind, Ed," was Squire's advice; "if it saves your life you can get over the medicine."
