own-stairs, and said they thought
they ought to send for somebody, and Mr. Crow said that Mr. Owl was a
good hand with sick folks, because he looked so wise and didn't say
much, which always made the patient think he knew something.

[Illustration: MR. OWL LOOKED AT HIS TONGUE AND FELT HIS PULSE]

So Mr. Crow hurried over and brought Mr. Owl, who put on his glasses and
looked at Mr. 'Possum's tongue, and felt of his pulse, and listened to
his breathing, and said that the cold water seemed to have struck in and
that the only thing to do was for Mr. 'Possum to stay in bed and drink
hot herb tea and not eat anything, which was a very sad prescription for
Mr. 'Possum, because he hated herb tea and was very partial to eating.
He groaned when he heard it and said he didn't suppose he'd ever live to
enjoy himself again, and that he might just as well have stayed in the
well with the chicken, which was a great loss and doing no good to
anybody. Then Mr. Owl went away, and told the Crow outside that Mr.
'Possum was a very sick man, and that at his time of life and in his
state of flesh his trouble might go hard with him.

So Mr. Crow went back into the kitchen and made up a lot of herb tea and
kept it hot on the stove, and Mr. 'Coon sat by Mr. 'Possum's bed and
made him drink it almost constantly, which Mr. 'Possum said might cure
him if he didn't die of it before the curing commenced.

He said if he just had that chicken, made up with a good platter of
dumplings, he believed it would do him more good than anything, and he
begged the 'Coon to go and fish it out, or to catch another one, and
try it on him, and then if he did die he would at least have fewer
regrets.

[Illustration: IN A LITTLE WHILE HE HAD THIS FINE, FAT CHICKEN]

But the Crow and the 'Coon said they must do as Mr. Owl ordered, unless
Mr. 'Possum wanted to change doctors, which was not a good plan until
the case became hopeless, and that would probably not be before some
time in the night. Mr. 'Coon said, though, there was no reason why that
nice chicken should be wasted, and as it would still be fresh, he would
rig up a hook and line and see if he couldn't save it. So he got out his
fishing things and made a grab hook and left Mr. Crow to sit by Mr.
'Possum until he came back. He could follow Mr. 'Possum's track to the
place, and in a little while he had the fine, fat chicken, and came home
with it and showed it to the patient, who had a sinking spell when