Next morning Peopeo sent him to the Big House. One of the voyageurs had fallen sick and needed blistered. Kimo would take his place in the Express to the Cowlitz. They did this now and again, blistered a man on the legs to draw out the bad humours. Blistering for Kimo was as repulsive as leeching. Yet it was true that some men improved afterwards. He'd seen similar oddities before, when Keaka had healed people by casting dry chicken bones. Even if the missionaries hadn't taught otherwise, a thinking man would have to question how dry bones, or entrails, or stone pebbles, could possibly cure a sickness. Yet they did, at times. The power of belief, he supposed. It came to him that his own disbelief could work against him if he got sick here, and decided he'd best make sure he stayed healthy.