He took it out gravely, opened it, and all crowded nearer to see. It was a large one of shining steel. “Did you ebber see anyt’ing like dis afore?” he asked of Running Water. The chief shook his head solemnly, and gazed with awe at the mysterious implement. “It’s a screwemcorkibus!” “Ugh! Good!” “It draws out de sickness, sah. Make de boy sot down, an’ you all keep berry still, an’ I show you.” Joe said this very gravely, and his orders being promptly obeyed, he approached the alarmed lad and slowly introduced the end of the corkscrew into one of his ears, and turned it around several times, being careful to inflict no wound. Then removing it, he affected to examine the spiral part very carefully--wiped it--pronounced it all right, and repeated the operation on the other ear, the savages manifesting the profoundest interest, and fairly holding their breath in order to preserve the strict silence which had been enjoined. “Dat ’ar is all,” said Congo solemnly. “I hab drawn de feber out ob one ear, and de agur out ob de oder. In two days de boy will be well, sah. He won’t nebber shake ag’in after dat.” Running Water asked permission to examine the wonderful implement with which this cure had been wrought, and he handled it a minute or so with the greatest respect, while others of the warriors pressed forward and barely touched it with their fingers, perhaps thinking that they thus secured to themselves immunity from the dreaded disease. The chief returned it to Congo with a regretful look at parting with such a treasure, and the negro was about magnanimously presenting it to him, when it occurred to him that such a course would have a tendency to lower their estimation of its powers and his own. He, therefore, wiped it carefully, closed it, and returned it to his pocket, after which he again essayed to depart, but the red men had not yet done with him. They brought forward their guns, their fishing tackle, and their bows and arrows, and begged that the medicine man would pass them through his hands, which process they believed would impart some of his mysterious power to them. Joe complied, repeating the chorus of an old song in a croaking, ravenlike voice, as he manipulated the weapons, and thus giving the most unbounded satisfaction to the savages. “Ef dem guns and bows don’t shoot straight arter dis, gemmen, it will be your own fault,” he said, “and ef you put good bait on dem hooks and go where de fish is, you’ll ketch ’em. Mind, I tell you! How you feel?” This question was addressed to the lad, who did not understand it until it was repeated by the chief in the Indian tongue. According to that linguist’s report, the boy replied that he felt “much gooder.” “All right,” said Joe, “you jes’ wait a day or two and you won’t know yourself. Good-by, Running Water; good-by, gemmen and ladies! Do ole grandfer is asleep, I see, so I won’t shake hands with him.”