her own language.

"She isn't relying on the herbs alone," muttered Tom curiously
to himself. "She's working up some kind of incantation. I wonder
what effect she expects an Indian song to have on snake poison?"

Presently the squaw turned, bringing one of the cupfuls to the
wounded boy.

"Sit up," she ordered. "Drink!"

Tom nearly dropped it, it was so hot.

"Drink!" repeated the squaw.

"But it's so hot it'll burn my gullet out," remonstrated Reade.

"You know more I do?" demanded the squaw stolidly. "Drink!"

Tom took a sip, and shuddered from the intense heat of the stuff.

"Humph! White man him heap papoose!" muttered the squaw, scornfully.
"You want live, drink!"

Tom took a longer swallow of the hot stuff. Whew, but it was
bitter!

"The bronze lady is trying to turn me inside out!" gasped the
boy to himself.