The Boy Ranchers in Death Valley Part 18

CHAPTER XIII

FRIGHTENED HORSES

Bud Merkel lost no time in getting connected, through the telephone, with the only physician in Los Pompan. Old Doc Taylor, the medical man was called, though he was not very old. It was more a term of affection.

"Our c.h.i.n.k cook is poisoned!" Bud explained. "Can you come out quick?"

"_p.r.o.nto!_" was the illuminating reply and then there was nothing to do save wait for Dr. Taylor's arrival.

"He's got a flivver," announced Snake who, with Yellin' Kid, had paid more than one visit to town since arriving at Dot and Dash, thereby learning considerable about the place and its inhabitants. "It won't take long for the doc to get here."

"But can't we do anything, meanwhile, for that poor c.h.i.n.k?" asked Nort.

"Guess there isn't much hope for him if he drank all that stuff,"

remarked Bud in gloomy tones. "Though we might try to help him get it out of his stomach."

"How you goin' to do that?" Snake demanded.

"By giving him an emetic," Bud answered. "Mustard and water's good, I've heard. Come on--we got to try something," and he turned to his cousins as the most likely ones to be of service.

They found poor Fah Moo rushing around the somewhat narrow confines of his kitchen. The Chinese was still yelling and holding both yellow hands across the pit of his stomach. On a table, amid pots, pans and dishes, were the three bottles of the Elixer of Life. Two were completely emptied and the third had but a little fluid remaining in it.

"You drink all that?" asked Bud, pointing to the three bottles when he could get Fah Moo's attention for a moment.

"Can do! Dlink lot--chop-chop!" was the groaning answer the import of it being that he had taken the stuff quickly.

"Whew!" murmured Nort. "Guess there's no hope for him."

"There may be," said d.i.c.k. "Sometimes an overdose of poison is its own antidote. He may have taken so much that he'll be sick and that would be the best thing for him."

"He sure took an overdose," declared Bud. "See if you can find some mustard, you fellows. I'll put on a kettle of water to boil. The mustard ought to be mixed with warm water to make it work."

The boys bustled about, Fah Moo, meanwhile, rushing around, clutching his stomach and howling at the top of his voice. Billee and his companions looked in now and then to ask if they could help, or to offer suggestions, more or less useless, but their services were not required. Indeed there was room for no more first-aiders in the small kitchen.

In due time the water was warm, the mustard had been found and a big dose mixed. Then came the difficulty of administering it to the Chinese cook, and a great difficulty it was. As soon as he got the idea that he was to be made to drink something more, and when he had sight of the unappetizing yellow mixture of warm water and mustard in a big bowl, the cook revolted. He retreated into a corner, pulled a chair in front of him and yelled:

"No can do! No can do!"

"But you've got to do!" insisted Bud. "It's the only way to save your life! Drink it!"

"No can dlink! Fah Moo dlink chop-chop--plenty--no can do!"

And that was all there was to it. He yipped and yapped, clutched his stomach but would not come out of his corner nor touch the emetic. The boys were in despair, and their comrades were of no help, Snake even suggesting that it served the c.h.i.n.k right for taking the stuff. But just when it seemed that Fah Moo would raise the roof with his yells, Dr. Taylor arrived in his rattling flivver and took charge of the case.

"What did he take?" was his first question.

"Poison!" chorused the whole Diamond X outfit.

"All right, but what kind? I can't tell what to give him to counteract it until I know what poison it was," said the medical man.

"Here's the dope!" announced Yellin' Kid, handing over the bottle containing what was left of the Elixer.

Dr. Taylor smelled it, tipped the flask to get a little of the mixture on his finger and then, gingerly, applied the digit to his tongue. He waited for any possible reaction, and then took a larger taste of the stuff. Then a slow smile spread over his face as he indulged in even a bigger "swig," as Snake called it.

"This stuff isn't poison," he said, setting the bottle back on the table. "If this is all the c.h.i.n.k drank he won't die."

"Not if he took three bottles of it?" asked Bud.

"Not if he took a dozen. It may make him mighty sick, but he won't die this trip."

"What is that stuff?" asked Nort.

"Sarsaparilla!" was the chuckling answer. "Nothing but good, old-fashioned sarsaparilla soda pop with the pop left out. It's as flat as ditch water. Where'd you get it?"

"Bought it from an old geezer who said it was Elixer of Life," Snake informed the doctor.

"You mean old Tosh?"

"Don't know what his name is," Bud said, "but he's an old man and he has a place back here in a cave. We caught him, a little while ago, brewing the stuff. Just before that we found some of our cattle dead and we sort of jumped to the conclusion that he'd poisoned the animals.

Then, when we got here and found the c.h.i.n.k taking on so, and discovered the three bottles in his kitchen, empty, we thought he was poisoned."

"Not a bit of it!" chuckled Dr. Taylor. "A barrel of that wouldn't poison anybody, though, as I said, it would make them ill and give considerable pain. Elixer of Life! Ha! Ha!"

"Do you know this old man--what did you say his name was?" asked d.i.c.k.

"Old Tosh he calls himself. Might better be _Bosh_! No, I don't know him--never saw him as far as I know. But a lot of fools in Los Pompan have bought his dope, and it made some of them sick. That's how I happened to know what it was soon as I tasted it. I've seen samples in the homes of folks who called me in to treat them for stomach pains.

Almost always it was because they had taken too much of this Tosh elixer. I've sampled dozens of bottles of it. He puts it out under all sorts of names--makes the labels himself, I guess. So I didn't recognize his concoction here until I sampled it," and the medical man waved his hands at the three bottles. "So that's that. Fah Moo won't die."

"He'll wreck our nerves, though, if he keeps this yelling up!"

complained Bud. "Can't you give him something?"

"Yes, I can relieve him," chuckled the doctor. "Mustard and water; eh?" he went on as he saw the mixture. "Good enough but you have to swallow too much of it to be effective. I've got something that will do the work."

He produced a couple of capsules, which after much urging, the Chinese was induced to swallow when told they would save his life. Then he was led outside and far away by Snake and Yellin' Kid. In a short time Fah Moo was a very sick Celestial, but after that he grew rapidly better and came creeping back to the kitchen, somewhat pale, wan and drawn, but no longer yipping, yelling and yapping.

"Can do now," he said, meaning that he could proceed with his work, which he did, when he had formally been engaged by Bud who was virtually head of the new ranch.

"Well, I guess that's all there is to this case," remarked the doctor as he repacked his black bag. "There was no danger. He would have gotten over it in time, anyhow."

"So the Elixer is only sarsaparilla; is it?" asked Bud.

"That's about all. Just a sort of root beer mixture of herbs and barks the old man concocts. Harmless enough. It hasn't even the virtues of soda water, for that has carbonic acid gas in it and that's beneficial at times. So he calls it Life's Elixer; does he?"

"He does," a.s.sented Bud.

"And he stung me for a dollar!" sighed Snake. "Wait till I get hold of him! Did I hear you boys say you caught him in a cave?"