And now for the antidotes, or rather the supposed antidotes. The Indians
tell you, that if the wounded animal be held for a considerable time up to
the mouth in water the poison will not prove fatal; also that the juice of
the sugar-cane poured down the throat will counteract the effects of it.
These antidotes were fairly tried upon full-grown healthy fowls, but they
all died, as though no steps had been taken to preserve their lives. Rum
was recommended, and given to another, but with as little success.

It is supposed by some that wind introduced into the lungs by means of a
small pair of bellows would revive the poisoned patient, provided the
operation be continued for a sufficient length of time. It may be so; but
this is a difficult and a tedious mode of cure, and he who is wounded in
the forest, far away from his friends, or in the hut of the savages, stands
but a poor chance of being saved by it.

Had the Indians a sure antidote, it is likely they would carry it about
with them or resort to it immediately after being wounded, if at hand; and
their confidence in its efficacy would greatly diminish the horror they
betray when you point a poisoned arrow at them.

One day, while we were eating a red monkey erroneously called the baboon,
in Demerara, an Arowack Indian told an affecting story of what happened to
a comrade of his. He was present at his death. As it did not interest this
Indian in any point to tell a falsehood, it is very probable that his
account was a true one. If so, it appears that there is no certain
antidote, or at least an antidote that could be resorted to in a case of
urgent need, for the Indian gave up all thoughts of life as soon as he was
wounded.

The Arowack Indian said it was but four years ago that he and his companion