As rapidly as the potatoes could be scraped into a thick paste, it was spread generously over the reddened flesh, and fastened in place by the old linen cloths which had been used for cleaning the lens.
Nearly an hour was spent in this work, and then the suffering man was left on the floor near the window where there was but little water, until the extent of Captain Eph's injuries could be ascertained.
"I didn't break any bones, that's certain, for I've been feelin' of my leg," the keeper said when Mr. Peters and Sidney knelt by his side; "but I came as near as a man could without splinterin' 'em, an' it looks as if I might be laid up quite a spell."
He had already taken off his shoe and stocking, exposing to view a limb swollen to fully twice its natural size, and Sidney was filled with wonder because the captain had been able to hide all evidences of the pain from which he was undoubtedly suffering.
"What shall I do for you, Captain Eph?" Mr. Peters asked helplessly.
"The only thing I know of is to tie it up in wet cloths, an' when that's been done you two had best get things dried out here, so's you'll have a chance to go into the lantern. I'm allowin' that the whole place is filled with smoke."
"We won't bother 'bout the light till we get you two fixed up in some kind of decent shape," Mr. Peters said decidedly, as if he considered himself in command. "I'll see to your leg while Sonny mops up the water."
Then Mr. Peters closed the windows on the easterly side of the tower, through which the moisture-laden snow was driving, and Sidney turned all his attention to making the room look more habitable.
"How are you gettin' on, Zenas?" Captain Eph asked as the second assistant beat his hands together to prevent a cry of pain from escaping his lips.
"I'm in misery, Ephraim, clear misery; but I know I've every reason to be thankful that I wasn't burned worse, an' am tryin' not to show myself a baby."
"Don't try, Uncle Zenas," the keeper said, himself striving to choke back a groan as Mr. Peters jarred the injured limb. "Yell all you want'er, an' we won't call it babyish, for when a man gets a kettle of hot fat poured over him he's like to be in a bad way."
It seemed to Sidney that he had never worked so slowly before, not even while he tried to light the lantern when Mr. Peters was brought home. He believed it in the highest degree necessary that the injured men be taken from the wet floor as speedily as possible, and yet he was making but little headway in mopping up the water.