“Do you think you could let me fuss around that shoulder a little while?” Doctor Joe asked.  “Does it hurt too badly for you to bear it?”

“Oh, I can stand un,” said Lem.  “Fuss around un all you wants to, Doctor Joe.  You knows how to mend un and patch un up, and I wants un mended.”

Doctor Joe called Andy to his assistance with another basin of warm water, in which, as previously, he dissolved antiseptic tablets, explaining to the boys the reason, and adding: 

“If a wound is kept clean Nature will heal it.  Nothing you can apply to a wound will assist in the healing.  All that is necessary is to keep it clean and keep it properly bandaged to protect it from infection.”

“Wouldn’t a bit of wet t’baccer draw the soreness out?” Lem suggested.

“No!  No!  No!” protested Doctor Joe, properly horrified.  “Never put tobacco or anything else on a wound.  If you do you will run the risk of infection which might result in blood poisoning, which might kill you.”

“I puts t’baccer on cuts sometimes and she always helps un,” insisted Lem.

“It’s simply through the mercy of God, then, and your good clean blood, that it hasn’t killed you,” declared Doctor Joe.

From his kit Doctor Joe brought forth bandages and gauze and some strange-looking instruments, and turned his attention to the shoulder.  Lem gritted his teeth and, though Doctor Joe knew he was suffering, never uttered a whimper or complaint.

An examination disclosed the fact that the bullet had coursed to the right, and Doctor Joe located it just under the skin directly forward of the arm pit.  Though it was necessarily a painful wound, he was relieved to find that no vital organ had been injured, and he was able to assure Lem that he would soon be around again and be as well as ever.

When the bullet was extracted Doctor Joe examined it critically, washed it and placed it carefully in his pocket.  It proved to be a thirty-eight calibre, black powder rifle bullet.  Doctor Joe had no doubt of that.  He had made a study of firearms and had the eye of an expert.

“It’s half-past two, boys.  A westerly breeze is springing up, and I think you’d better go on to Fort Pelican,” Doctor Joe suggested.  “I’ll give you a note to the factor instructing him to deliver all the things to you.  You’ll be able to make a good run before camping time.  Stop in here on your way back.”

The boys made ready and said good-bye, spread the sails, and were soon running before a good breeze.  Doctor Joe watched them disappear round the island, and returning to Lem’s bedside asked: 

“Lem, do you know what kind of a rifle Indian Jake carried?”

“I’m not knowin’ rightly,” said Lem. “’Twere either a forty-four or a thirty-eight.  ‘Twere he did the shootin’.  Nobody else has been comin’ about here the whole summer.  I’m not doubtin’ he’s got my silver fox, and I’m goin’ to get un back whatever.  He’d never stop at shootin’ to rob, but he’ll have to be quicker’n I be at shootin’, to keep the fur!”