“Keno Jim and me looked after the lady whilest Hadds pranced around the Major and cussed scientific cuss-words.  Of course, Keno and me didn’t know no more what to do than a photograft of the Wild Man of Borneo when there was a fain tin’ woman in the question.  As I said, I hadn’t been married enough to learn, and the present line of Mrs. Scraggses was healthy, whatever other faults they might have.  Hadds ’ud come over and tell us half of something, and then rush back to the Major, tearin’ his hair.

“‘Blast it, Hadds!’ says Keno, ‘quit callin’ the man names and let us know what to do for this woman.’

“‘Give her a drink of whisky!’ yells Hadds.  ’Come here, Zeke, and see what ails this beggar now!’

“If he hadn’t called me off like that lots of things wouldn’t happened.  ‘Look at him!’ says Hadds, and grinds his teeth.  ’Forty dollars’ worth of stuff smashed—­charge it, of course.  Prob’ly he’s goin’ to die on our hands—­’twould be just like his unmerciful nerve.  Pass me that bottle of ammonia, Zeke.’

“Then Keno hollered for me.  He’d pried the Majoress’ mouth open, stuck a cork in to it keep it so, and then fed her the revivifier.  She wasn’t a handsome woman at the best, but with that cork in her mouth——!

“‘I gave her to there of whisky,’ says Keno, indicatin’ about four Swede fingers on a water tumbler.  ’Do you think that’ll bring her to ?’

“‘Like a bear trap,’ says I.  ’Do you mean to say you sluiced that much raw jump-and-holler into a woman that can’t stand uncooked water?  Well, you are an allotropic modification of the genus jackass, like Hadds says of the Major.’

“Keno got purple in the face.  He slammed the glass down and walked out.  ‘Now you can look after your own women,’ says he, bitter.  Them scientific cuss-words cut him to the heart.

“I looked at the lady.  The color was coming back to her face.  Evidently she’d be around in a minute or two.  Then Hadds fairly whoops at me: 

“’Come here!  Come ‘here!  You’re a nice pardner, you are, standin’ there with your hands in your pockets!’

“‘Well, what’ll I do, Hadds?’ says I.

“’Do?  I don’t care what you do, so long’s you don’t look so aggravatin’ useless.  D’yer think this specimen of an officer and gentleman appears to be—­what in blazes is he doin’ now?’

“‘Don’t abuse the poor cuss,’ says I.  ’He really couldn’t help it.’  Then I had an inspiration.  Several times in my life I’ve been afflicted that way.  ‘See here,’ says I, ’he took his dose through the nose.  Why don’t you give him the remedy the same way?  Try a pinch of that Scotch snuff.’

“‘Why, sure!’ says Hadds.  He’d tried anythin’ at that stage of the game.

“Well, dear friends and brothers, it ain’t down in the farmer-coop-here, nor no other agriculcheral reports, and I dunno as you could bank on it in every case, but from what I see on this occasion, if you ever happen to have a friend or relative that’s over-indulged in choreform and can’t seem to recall himself, wait till he takes a deep breath, and mix about an ounce of Scotch snuff in his air supply.  It may work wonders.