“Healing-salve? fiddlestick! I’ve seen Indians cut half to pieces, scalded, and burnt, and get well, and I never saw any salve among them. Now,” continued Uncle Isaac (who, though one of the kindest-hearted men alive, was but little given to sentiment, and entirely practical in all his views), “we can do no more good here; let us bring the furniture into the house for Ben, and then I want to finish that burn; we’ll set it on fire at the other end; it will be fun to see it come down before the wind. It can do no harm, for there are enough of us to take care of it. I reckon I know something about this business.”