Mrs. Westfall relinquished her hold on the ear as if it had been a hot coal. Her jaw fell. Her breath came with difficulty. The leering face, the disrespect, the profanity! It was more than she could bear. She was shocked. She was humiliated! She was dumfounded!
Quite unmindful of his mother's presence Biscuit lurched towards the gasping members of her temperance flock and called out invitingly:
"Have a little liquor, ladies! Then I'll plead for you! Hey, bartender!"--he stalked over and prodded Sube with his foot--"Wake up there, and 'tend to your customers!"
"Don't touch me," growled Sube. "I'm an awful sick boy!"
"Shick! Who's shick? _You?_--Aw, come off! You're only playin' up!" bawled Biscuit. "You wazh laughin' louder'n anybody a minute ago!"
But the truth of Sube's assertion was soon apparent to all. He was undeniably sick. And the mere sight of his distress seemed to have an unfavorable effect on the other thespians, for one by one they were seized with similar spasms. Biscuit, who was the last to succumb, was the sickest of all. His moans were the loudest, his convulsions the most violent, his cramps the most griping.
Somebody had the presence of mind to run for Dr. Richards, but he was not in his office. Efforts to get in touch with any of the other physicians in town failed. They were all at the hospital watching the performance of a rare operation by an eminent surgeon from a nearby city. So the women of the Temperance Union helped the stricken boys to their respective homes as best they could, that being considered the proper place to die.
That it was a case of wholesale poisoning was readily apparent to all but the victims. And each mother upon receiving her writhing son, put into practise her idea of first aid to the poisoned. Stucky Richards' mother tried the stomach pump without fatal results. Mrs. Sigsbee used a mustard plaster on Cottontop's abdomen and camphor on his temples with about equal success. Biscuit's mother prayed; but rather for her son's forgiveness than his recovery.
The Cane boys were put to bed and compelled to drink several quarts of tepid soapsuds while their father was rushing home from the office.
"What have you been eating?" he demanded breathlessly when, at last, he reached Sube's bedside.