But the expression of miserable, impotent distress on old Jim's sun-browned face was more than I could stand, and I could no longer keep up the deception.

Just as Wallace cried out to Jones to pray--I wished then I had not weakened so soon--I got up and walked to the fire.
"Jim, I'll have another biscuit, please." His under jaw dropped, then he nervously shoveled biscuits at me.

Jones grabbed my hand and cried out with a voice that was new to me: "You can eat?
You're better?
You'll get over it ?" "Sure.

Why, carbolic acid never phases me.

I've often used it for rattlesnake bites.