Margaret handed him the bottle. Wesley took a cup, weakened the drug and
said to Billy: "Man, these sores on you must be healed. Then you must
eat the kind of food that's fit for little men. I am going to put some
medicine on you, and it is going to sting like fire. If it just runs
off, I won't use any more. If it boils, there is poison in these places,
and they must be tied up, dosed every day, and you must be washed, and
kept mighty clean. Now, hold still, because I am going to put it on."

"I think the one on my leg is the worst," said the undaunted Billy,
holding out a raw place. Sinton poured on the drug. Billy's body twisted
and writhed, but he did not run.

"Gee, look at it boil!" he cried. "I guess they's poison. You'll have to
do it to all of them."

Wesley's teeth were set, as he watched the boy's face. He poured the
drug, strong enough to do effective work, on a dozen places over that
little body and bandaged all he could. Billy's lips quivered at times,
and his chin jumped, but he did not shed a tear or utter a sound other
than to take a deep interest in the boiling. As Wesley put the small
shirt on the boy, and fastened the trousers, he was ready to reset the
hitching post and mend the fence without a word.

"Now am I clean?" asked Billy.

"Yes, you are clean outside," said Wesley. "There is some dirty blood
in your body, and some bad words in your mouth, that we have to get out,
but that takes time. If we put right things to eat into your stomach
that will do away with the sores, and if you know that I don't like bad
words you won't say them any oftener than you can help, will you Billy?"