Читать книгу Trapped by Malays: A Tale of Bayonet and Kris - George Manville Fenn - Страница 12

The looking-glass in Archie Maine’s quarters often told him that he was rather a good-looking young fellow; that is to say, he gave promise of growing into a well-featured, manly youth without any foppish, effeminate, so-called handsomeness. But nature had been very kind to him, and, honestly, he scarcely knew anything about his own appearance; for when he looked in his glass for reasons connected with cleanliness—putting his hair straight, smoothing over his curliness, and playing at shaving away, or, rather, scraping off, some very smooth down—he had a habit of contracting his nerves and muscles so that a pretty good display of wrinkles came into view all over his forehead and at the corners of his lips and eyes, presenting to him quite a different-looking sort of fellow from the one known to his friends.

The morning after the mess dinner, he had given a parting glance in his little mirror, looking very much screwed-up, for his mind was busy with rather troublous thoughts, among which were the events of the past day, especially those connected with his interview with the Major.

Then he had hurried off to take advantage of what little time he had before going on duty, and made for the Doctor’s bungalow. It was not much of a place; but the glorious tropic foliage, the distant view of the river, and, above all, the flowers of the most brilliant colours that were always rushing into bloom or tumbling off to deck the ground made it a brilliant spot in the station, and as he neared it his face smoothed, his sun-browned forehead lost its wrinkles, and, just as he expected, he caught sight of the two reasons for the bungalow looking so bright and gay.

One reason was the Doctor’s wife busy in the garden with a basket and a pair of scissors, snipping off bunch and cluster ready for filling vase and basin in the shaded rooms; the other was standing upon a chair helping climber to twine and tendril to catch hold of trellis and wire which made the front of the cottage-like structure one blaze of colour.

“Morning, ladies,” cried the lad.

“Morning, Archie,” cried the Doctor’s wife, a pleasant, middle-aged, pink, sunshiny-looking lady, whose smooth skin seemed to possess the power of reflecting all sun-rays that played upon it so that they never fixed there a spot of tan. “Come to help garden?”

“Yes; all right. What shall I do?” cried the lad.

“Make Minnie jump down off that chair, and tuck up the wild tendrils of that climber.”

“No, no, auntie; I don’t want him,” cried the owner of the busy hands, as she reached up higher to hook on one tendril, and failed; for the long strand laden with blossom missed the wire that ought to have held it, fell backwards, and, as if directed by invisible fairy hands, formed itself into a wreath over her hair, startling her so that she would have lost her footing upon the chair had she not made a quick leap to the floor of the veranda, bringing down another trailing strand.

“Ha, ha! Serve you right, Miss Independence!” cried Archie, running to her help.

“No, no, don’t. I can do it myself,” cried the girl. “Mind; that flower’s so tender, and I know you will break it.”

“Suppose I do,” said Archie. “No, you don’t; I’ll take it off and twine it up myself, even if my fingers are so clumsy. I say, Minnie, it’s lucky for you that it isn’t that climbing rose, or there would be some scratches.”

He sprang upon the chair, busied himself for a few minutes, and then leaped down again, to stand with brow wrinkled, gazing up at his work.

“There,” he said; “won’t that do?”

“Yes,” said the girl, with a slight pout of two rather pretty lips. “It will do; but it isn’t high enough.”

“Oh, come, it’s higher than you could have reached.—Don’t say the Doctor’s out, Mrs. Morley?”

“No; but he’s got somebody with him;” and the speaker glanced at her niece, who turned away and looked conscious. “I am not surprised,” continued the Doctor’s wife, and she looked fixedly now at her visitor.

“What at?” replied the lad wonderingly.

“How innocent!—What do you say, Minnie? Look at him!”

The girl turned sharply, fixed her eyes upon the young officer’s face, and laughed merrily.

“What are you laughing at?” he cried, hurriedly taking out a handkerchief. “Have I made my face dirty?”

“No, sir.—We were quite right, auntie. I can’t think how young men can be so stupid.”

“ ’Tis their nature to,” said Archie, laughing, as he replaced his handkerchief. “But what have I been doing stupid now, Minnie?”

“Sitting in a hot room and drinking what doesn’t agree with you, sir.”

“I couldn’t help the room being hot,” replied the lad, rather indignantly.

“No, sir; but you could have helped giving yourself a headache and coming here this morning to ask uncle for a cooling draught.”

“Oh, that’s it, is it, Miss Clever? Well, you are all wrong.”

“I am glad to hear it, Archie,” said Mrs. Morley. “I thought you had come to see the Doctor.”

“That’s right,” said the lad, screwing up his face again and nodding rather defiantly, boy and girl fashion, at the young lady gardener. “Somebody ill?”

“No, my dear boy. It’s only Sir Charles Dallas;” and as she spoke she glanced at her niece again, who had suddenly become busy over a fresh loose strand. “He’s come to ask about the men who were wounded in that wretched quarrel last night.”

“Why, that’s what I came for.—Do you hear, Minnie?”

Just then a door somewhere in the interior was opened, and men’s voices reached their ears, one being the Doctor’s.

“No, nothing to worry about, sir; do them good.”

“Ah, you keep to your old belief in the lancet, then, Doctor,” came in the Resident’s pleasant, firm tones.

“In a case like this, certainly, sir. All the better for losing a little of their hot, fiery blood. Set of quarrelsome, jealous fools. Here we are, thousands of miles from home and Ould Ireland, amongst these tribes, all of them spoiling for a fight.”

“Yes, Doctor,” said the Resident, slowly approaching as he crossed the room; “but I hope to get them tamed down in time.”

“Ha, ha!” laughed the Doctor, as the two gentlemen came in sight.—“Hear him, Minnie! What’s the quotation—‘Hope springs eternal in the human breast?’ ”

“I forget uncle.”

“More shame for you.—Hope away, Dallas; but you will never tame the fighting spirit out of a Malay.—Morning, Archie, my lad. What do you say?”

“I say that Rajah Hamet is tame enough, only one ought not to talk about him as if he were a wild beast.—Good-morning, Sir Charles?”

“Morning, my lad,” replied the Resident, with a peculiar smile. “Have you got a head on this morning?”

“No, sir, I haven’t got a head on this morning,” cried the boy angrily, and with his sun-browned cheeks flushing up.

“I beg your pardon, sir. I thought you had come to see the Doctor.”

“So I have,” said Archie, drawing himself up and glancing across at Minnie, and then giving himself an angry jerk as he saw that she was laughing.

“Do you want to see me, Maine?” said the Doctor.

“Yes, sir, if you are at liberty.”

“Yes; all right, my lad.—Don’t trouble yourself, Dallas. That will be all right.—Into my room, Maine;” and he led the way into a pleasant, comfortably furnished room looking out upon the clearing at the back, a room evidently the Doctor’s surgery more than consulting-room, but whose formality was softened down by the cut-flowers which indicated the busy interference of the ladies of the house. “Sit down, my lad,” continued the Doctor, as he took a bamboo chair opposite that to which he had motioned his visitor; and gazing searchingly at him, he reached out his hand: “Head queer?”

“No, no, sir,” cried the subaltern, with his brow wrinkling up again. “I only wanted to know about last night and the men wounded.”

“Oh! That’s what Sir Charles came about. Well, it’s nothing much, my boy. It’s rather a large pull on my roll of sticking-plaster and a few bandages—rival clans or houses—do you bite your thumb at me, sir?—eh—Montagus and Capulets. Consequence of men carrying lethal weapons—only krises instead of rapiers. Bad thing to let men carry arms.”

“What about soldiers, then, sir?” said Archie merrily. “Bayonets, side-arms?”

“Ah, but there we have a discipline, my dear boy. But, all the same, it has fallen to my lot to treat a bayonet-dig or two when our fellows have got at the rack. Well, I am glad you are all right. I thought you looked a little fishy about the gills.”

“Not I, sir. I managed a splendid breakfast this morning.”

“Yes, boy; you are good that way. I often envy you, for what with my health and every one’s health to think about, doctoring one man for fever, putting all you fellows straight, and patching up squabbling savages, my appetite often feels as if it wants a fillip. A doctor’s is an anxious life, my boy—more especially out here in a country like this, amongst a very uncertain people, when a man feels that he has a stake in the country.”

“But you have no stake in the country, sir?”

“What, sir! I? Haven’t I my wife and my sister’s child?”

“Oh, I thought you meant something commercial, sir.”

“What! I? Pooh, boy! I was alluding to the uncertainty of our position here.”

“Oh! Oh, I see, sir. That’s all right enough. Here’s Sir Charles with a strong detachment of British infantry under his command, and the native chiefs are bound to respect him.”

“Tremendous!” said the Doctor, with a snort. “A couple of hundred men!”

“Three, sir.”

“Three indeed! What about the men on the sick-list, and the non-combatants that have to be counted in every squad? Why, if that fellow Suleiman turned nasty, where should we be, out here in the depths of this jungle?”

“Oh, there’s no occasion to fear anything of that sort, sir.”

“What! Not for a boy like you, Archie Maine, with a suit or two of clothes, a razor, and hair-brush. You put on your cap, and you cover all your responsibilities. What about the women, high and low, that we have to look after?”

“Oh, they’d be all right, sir.”

“Would they?”

“I say, Doctor, don’t talk like that. You don’t think that we have anything to fear?”

“I don’t know.—Well, fear? No, I suppose I mustn’t mention such a thing as fear; but we are hundreds of miles away from Singapore and help.”

“Oh no, sir. There’s the river. It wouldn’t take long for the gunboat to bring up reinforcements and supplies; and then, even if Mr. Sultan Suleiman turned against us—which isn’t likely—”

“I don’t know,” growled the Doctor.

“Well, sir, I think I do,” said Archie, rather importantly. “Why, if he did, there’s our friend the Rajah Hamet. He would be on our side.”

“Ah, that I don’t know,” said the Doctor again; and he tapped the table with his nails. “This is all in confidence, boy. I don’t think Sir Charles has much faith in that young gentleman. But still, that’s the way that our Government worked things in India.”

“I don’t quite understand you.”

“Read up your history, then, my boy. Our position in India has been made by the jealousies of the different princes and our political folks working them one against another. But there, you didn’t come here to chatter politics. What is it? You have got something more to say to me, haven’t you?”

“Well—er—yes, sir,” hesitated the lad.

“Out with it, boy. Never play with your medical man. No half-confidences. I can pretty well read you, Archie, so out with it frankly.”

“Well, sir, I did half make up my mind to speak to you, and came this morning on purpose; and then as soon as I saw you I felt that it was foolish—a sort of fancy of mine.”

“Well, go on; let me judge. You have got something the matter with you?”

“That’s what I don’t quite know, sir,” said the young man, who was now scarlet.

“Well, don’t shilly-shally. Let me judge. Is it some bodily ailment?”

“No, sir.”

“Glad of it. What is it, then? It can’t be money.”

“Oh no, sir.”

“Of course not. No temptations here to spend. Then you have got into some big scrape?”

“I am always getting into scrapes, sir.”

“Yes; and the Major had you up to give you a wigging, as you call it, only yesterday.”

“How did you know that, sir?” cried the lad excitedly.

“The Doctor knows pretty well everything about people, and what he doesn’t know for himself his women find out for him. Now then, what is it?”

“I am afraid you will laugh at me, sir.”

“I promise you I shall not.”

“Thank you, sir; that’s encouraging.”

“To the point, boy—to the point.”

Archie Maine drew a deep breath as if to pull himself together, and then as he met the Doctor’s searching eyes they seemed to draw out of him that which he wished to say.

“I am afraid, Doctor,” he said excitedly, “that I have got something wrong with my head.”

“Why? Pain you? Feeling of confusion?”

The lad shook the part of his person mentioned.

“Dizziness?”

“Oh no, sir; nothing of that sort.”

“Well, go on. A doctor isn’t a magician. Have you got a bad tooth? You must tell him which one to attack with his key preliminary to the scraunch.”

“Oh, you are laughing at me, Doctor.”

“Only smiling, my dear boy.”

“I don’t see anything to laugh at, sir, because it is a serious thing to me.”

“Good lad. I smiled because I felt happy over you since it didn’t seem to be anything serious.”

“But it is serious, sir.”

“Let’s hear. You say you have got something wrong with your head?”

“Well, I suppose it is my head, sir. But you know I am always getting into some trouble or another.”

“Exactly. You are notorious for your boyish pranks.”

“Yes, sir; and I want to get the better of it. It’s as the Major said: the troubles I get into are boys’ troubles, and not suitable to a young man.”

“The Major’s wise, Archie. Then why don’t you put off all your boyish mischief and remember that you are now pretty well a man grown, and, as one of our lads would say in his cockney lingo, ‘act as sich?’ ”

“Because I can’t, Doctor,” said the lad earnestly. “I want to act as a man. I’m six feet two, and I shave regularly.”

“Humph!” grunted the Doctor, who had to make an effort to keep his countenance.

“And whenever I get into trouble I make a vow that I’ll never do such a childish, schoolboyish thing again; but it’s no use, for before many days have passed, something tempts me, and I find myself doing more foolish things than ever. Can it be that there is some screw loose in my head?”

The Doctor sat looking earnestly in the lad’s agitated countenance, for his brow was one tangle of deeply marked wrinkles.

“I think sometimes I must be going mad, or at all events growing into an idiot, and you can’t think how wretched and despairing it makes me. Do you think medicine—tonic or anything of that sort—would do me good?”

The Doctor gazed at the lad fixedly till he could bear it no longer, and he was about to speak again, when the adviser uttered a loud expiration of the breath, jumping up at the same time and clapping his hands heavily on his visitor’s shoulders.

“No, my lad, I don’t,” he cried boisterously. “You are sound as a bell, strong as a young horse. Why, you ought to be proud of yourself instead of fidgeting with a lot of morbid fancies. You have been for years and years a boy, fresh—larky, as you would say—full of mischief, as I was myself—”

“You, Doctor! Impossible!”

“What! Ha, ha! Why, Archie Maine, I have watched you pretty thoroughly since we have been friends, noted your pranks, and seen the trouble you have got into with the Major. Oh yes; I believe I was much worse than you. And you are now changing into the man, when most fellows of your age begin thinking more of others than of themselves; though they are pretty good at that latter, and particularly fond of arranging their plumage so as to excite admiration. But you held on to your merry, mischievous boyhood, so take my advice and don’t worry yourself any more. I hope you have got many, many years to come, and you will find yourself serious enough then. So you thought yours might be a case for medical advice? Not it!”

“But!”—ejaculated Archie.

“But me no buts, as the man said in the book. You will be cured fast enough in the first real trouble that comes upon us and makes its genuine appeal to your manhood.”

“But I get plenty of trouble now, Doctor,” protested the lad.

“Bah! A bit of a rowing—a snub from the Major! Trifles, boy. Those are not real troubles. I mean times when you find out that you really are a man, that others’ lives are perhaps depending upon you as a soldier for preservation. My dear boy, all you have got to do is not to try to be a man. Nature will do that. Your full manhood will come quite soon enough. Only try to drop a little of the boy, for you are a bit too young. Well, what are you staring at?”

Archie’s face was more wrinkled than ever.

“Ah, I see,” continued the Doctor. “You are doubting whether you shall believe me. Here’s a pretty fellow! Comes to a medical man for advice, and begins to doubt him as soon as the advice is given.—Here, Maria—Minnie!”

“No, for goodness’ sake, Doctor! And Sir Charles is there!”

“No, he isn’t. I heard him start ten minutes ago.”

“But you are not going to tell them what I said?”

“Do I ever tell my patients’ secrets to anybody? Now, look here, Archie; you want to jump right into your manhood at once?”

“Of course I do, sir.”

“Well, my lad, I’m afraid you won’t have long to wait, for if I’m not very much mistaken your cure is coming.”

“What! mischief with the Malays, sir?”

“This is in confidence, my lad—yes. But look here,” continued the Doctor, lowering his voice, for at that moment voices were heard apparently approaching the Doctor’s room. “Tut, tut!” he muttered. “They have no business to be coming here now. I suppose they don’t class you as a patient. Humph! All right. They are not coming here. Look here, Archie,” he continued, as he threw himself back in his chair; “mine may only be suspicions, but situated as we are here amongst these people, who, in spite of their half-civilisation, have a good deal of the savage at heart and the natural strong dislike for those who hold them in subjection, it is good policy to be a little too wise and not careless and indifferent over matters that give one food for thought.”

“But, Doctor,”—said the young man earnestly, and with a touch of excitement in his tones.

“There, there, there, don’t fly out. I was only going to say that I can’t help feeling doubtful at times about our position here.”

“But you don’t think that the Malays—”

“Yes, I do—I think that they are very untrustworthy. They dislike us for religious reasons as well as for taking possession of their country, and, in short, there are times when I can’t help feeling that we are living on the slopes of a moral volcano which might burst forth at any moment.”

“But, Doctor, they seem so friendly.”

“Yes, my lad; as you say, they seem so friendly.”

“Why, lots of the people quite worship you. See how they come for advice.”

“Oh yes,” said the Doctor dryly, “I get plenty of native patients; but that doesn’t make their own doctors any fonder of me. Still, I dare say I can get on very well, and, as I have suggested, I may be too suspicious. Nothing may happen for years—perhaps never. But you are a soldier.”

“Well, yes, sir,” said the lad, laughing. “Old Ripsy’s trying to make me one.”

“And you are a soldier, my lad; and though you mayn’t have to fight, you will quite agree with me that it is wise to keep your powder dry.”

“Of course, sir.”

“There’s no harm in that, eh?”

“Of course not, sir.”

“Well, men are men, and women are women.”

“Yes, sir,” said the lad, smiling.

“And we don’t want to frighten them by letting them see that we are always going to the magazine. See what I mean?”

“Yes, sir. You mean, not let them know that you have any doubts about our position here.”

“Good. I went a roundabout way to put it before you, but you have hit the right nail clean on the head at once. We want to make their lives as sunshiny as we can, and not try to point out clouds where as likely as not there are none.”

“Of course not, sir.”

“Right, Archie. A quiet, thoughtful man would, of course, be careful not to discuss matters before our womenkind that might have an alarming tendency.”

“And you think I, a boy, might, sir?” said Archie, frowning heavily.

“Yes,” said the Doctor; “but not after such a broad hint as I am giving you now, my lad;” and he leaned forward and patted his visitor upon the knee.

The change in Archie Maine’s countenance was instantaneous. The wrinkles of doubt were smoothed out from his forehead, and he stood up, gazing as it were straight past the Doctor into the future, his lips compressed and a general tensity of expression seeming to pervade every feature. Then he started violently, for the Doctor exclaimed:

“Well done! The cure has begun.”

“What do you mean, Doctor?”

“Only this, my lad: that very likely there may be several relapses, but you are growing up fast. There, our consultation is over, and I suppose you have no more to say to me?”

“Yes, one thing, Doctor,” said the young man in a low tone, for the ladies’ voices were heard once more.

“Well, what is it?”

“Only this, sir—private and confidential.”

“Of course. What do you mean?”

“You will not tell Mrs. Morley what I have said?”

“Is it likely, my lad?” cried the Doctor merrily, as he clapped his visitor on the shoulder. “There, be off. You are keeping a patient waiting.”

The Doctor threw open the door and led the way out into the veranda, where Mrs. Morley and Minnie were standing beside a black-haired, black-eyed, young native woman, who was squatted down in the shade, and who now started up hurriedly from where she had evidently been holding up a solemn-looking little child of about two years old for the ladies’ inspection.

The woman’s dark eyes flashed, and she made a movement as if to cover her face, but snatched away her hand directly and stood up proudly for a moment, before bowing low and not ungracefully to the Doctor as he gave her a quick nod.

“Here is Dula,” said Mrs. Morley. “She has brought up her sick child.”

“Yes, I see,” said the Doctor, rather gruffly, as he frowned at the swarthy little patient. “But I wish Dula could talk English or I could talk her tongue a little better.”

The woman smiled intelligently as she rearranged the bright-coloured plaid sarong around the child and said in a pleasant voice:

“Ba-be bet-ter.”

The Doctor took a step forward, and the child shrank from him as he laid his hand upon its head and gazed fixedly in its eyes.

“Now, little one,” he said, “we did teach you to put out your tongue last time.”

“Tongue—tongue,” said the woman quickly; and she held the child towards the Doctor, while Archie and Minnie exchanged glances, and then burst out laughing; for, in obedience to a shake given by its mother, the tiny girl uttered a low whimper, screwed-up her face as if about to cry, and then thrust out a little red tongue, drew it back instanter, and buried her face in her mother’s breast.

“All right,” said the Doctor to the woman. “It is getting well fast.”

“Well—fast!” cried the woman, catching up his words quickly; and then, with the tears welling over from her great dark eyes, she bent down, caught at the Doctor’s hand, and held it quickly to her lips.

“Oh, oh, that’s all right,” said the Doctor hastily, as he drew back his hand and patted the woman’s shoulder.

“Look, uncle, what Dula has brought us!” cried Minnie; and she took from the veranda table a great bunch of the beautiful white creeper which the native women were fond of wearing in their black hair.

“Aha!” said the Doctor. “Thank you.—My fee, Archie.”

“Not all,” said Mrs. Morley. “She has brought you one of those horrible durians;” and as the Doctor’s wife spoke Minnie caught up a little, bamboo-woven native basket, in which, carefully arranged among freshly gathered fern, was one of the peculiar-looking native fruits, the produce of one of the great trees so carefully planted and cared for in nearly every native village. “Don’t! Don’t touch the horrid thing, my dear,” whispered Mrs. Morley.

“What!” cried the Doctor; and he took the great, hard-shelled fruit from the basket and turned it over in his hands. “Capital!” he cried. “A beauty!”

“Ugh!” ejaculated Mrs. Morley; and Minnie screwed-up her face into a pretty grimace, as she once more exchanged glances with Archie.

“Doc-tor like?” questioned the woman, with an anxious look.

“Yes,” he replied, smiling. “I like them very much.”

“Like—very—much,” said the woman. “Dula glad.” And then, soothing her child tenderly, she whispered a few words to it in her native language.

“Oh, come,” said the Doctor, “I do understand that. Your mother’s quite right: I sha’n’t eat you.”

The woman smiled again as she hugged her child closer and kissed it lovingly, while the Doctor nodded to Minnie.

“Quite comic, isn’t it, my dear? What foolish things mothers are, aren’t they? Just as fond of their bairns as Englishwomen, eh?”

“Why, of course, uncle. Such a pretty little thing, too! Look at its eyes!” and, to the mother’s great delight, the girl crossed to her, took the child in her arms, and kissed it, while the little thing smiled, raised one hand, and softly stroked the girl’s white face.

“There, Archie,” she cried; “it is pretty, isn’t it?”

“A beauty!” said the young man, laughing.

“Come and kiss it, sir,” said the girl imperiously.

“All right;” and without more ado the lad took hold of the child, held it up, and kissed it twice.

“Oh, take care!” cried Minnie. “How clumsy you are!”

“Well, it doesn’t seem to think so,” cried the lad, as he handed the little one back to its mother, who said a few words in her own tongue to the Doctor, and then turned to the two ladies, and after bowing to them with native grace, bent low to Archie, gave him a grateful look, and walked slowly away.

“Oh, you young humbug!” growled the Doctor.

“Why?” said Archie warmly.

“Just to show off before my wife and Minnie. I believe you were growling all the time and calling it a dirty little nigger.”

“That I wasn’t! I don’t mind babies when they are as big as that.”

“No—don’t mind,” said the Doctor sarcastically.

“And I didn’t call it a little nigger. I was wishing there was some sugar near.—Oh, I say, doesn’t your durian smell?”

“Horrid!” exclaimed Minnie.

“All right, my dear,” said the Doctor. “I can bear it. But you will come down some day, my lady.”

“Never, uncle!”

“We shall see,” said the Doctor. “My word, what a beauty!—Here, Archie, drop in this evening and help me to have it for dessert.”

“I’m sure Archie won’t touch the nasty thing, uncle.”

“Oh, won’t I?” cried the lad. “Only too glad of the chance.”

Minnie made a grimace and turned away, but turned back directly on hearing Archie’s next words:

“I say, Doctor, that woman shows how the people here like you.”

“Well, yes,” said the gentleman addressed, “I suppose they do feel a little obliged; but I don’t think they care much.”

“Oh, uncle,” cried Minnie, “I am sure they do. See how pleased that boatman was—that man who came up to you out of the sampan, and who brought us that fish afterwards. Why, I believe that he would have done anything for you.”

“I believed once that he was going to do something for me, my dear.”

“Now, don’t talk nonsense, my dear,” said Mrs. Morley. “I told you not to talk about that.”

“You did, Mary. But it was an awkward position; wasn’t it, Minnie?”

“I agree with aunt, uncle, that a lot of it was invention.”

“Oh, it wasn’t invention, Archie. It was an awful position for a poor surgeon.”

“I haven’t heard anything about this,” said Archie.

“Well, it was like this, my boy. He was about one of the biggest and fiercest fellows that I have seen here. There was only one good thing about him: he could speak bad English. He came up here one day and tried to make me understand that he was in terrible pain. But that was plain enough, for as soon as he was in my room he began stamping about, pointing to his mouth.”

“What! had he got the toothache?” said Archie.

“Yes—one of those awfully bad ones; and twice over he clapped his hand to his waist and uncovered the handle of his kris as if he meant to use it. It quite startled me.”

“Now, Henry, pray do not exaggerate so. I do wish you wouldn’t be so fond of ornamenting your anecdotes.”

“Well, really, my dear, if I didn’t touch up a story a little bit, young Maine here wouldn’t be able to grasp it.”

“Was he in such pain, then, sir,” said Archie, “that he wanted you to think he would kill himself?”

“Yes, my lad; and being such a fierce-looking fellow, he made me feel quite nervous, for twice over he looked as if he was going to use a kris on me, and I began to look round my bottles for something to use in self-defence.”

“Chloroform, I suppose,” said Mrs. Morley sarcastically.

“No, my dear; something much stronger than that.”

“That’s a new improvement, Henry,” said Mrs. Morley.

“There, she won’t let me tell you, Archie. You ask me, and I will tell you the story some day when we are alone.”

“Oh no, Doctor; you have raised my curiosity, and I want to hear it now.”

“Oh, pray go on,” said Mrs. Morley.

“Well, don’t interrupt me, then.”

Minnie and Archie exchanged laughing glances, and the Doctor went on:

“Well, I got him down in a chair, and as he lay back he opened his mouth and displayed a tremendous set of the biggest and whitest teeth I ever saw.”

“Ahem!” coughed Minnie, with a merry look at Archie.

“Fine, healthy-looking man he was, but he had the regular savage Malay look in his eyes; but I gained courage directly I saw what was the matter. There was one great double tooth which was evidently the cause of all the trouble, and I knew at once that he would have no peace till it was drawn. There was a position for a medical man! And I could not help feeling that I was quite at his mercy. I went to a drawer and took out an instrument, and as I approached him he glared at me more savagely than ever, and laid his right hand once more upon the ugly, pistol-like hilt of his kris. Now, sir, what would you have done under the circumstances?”

“Bolted,” said Archie laconically.

“I don’t believe you,” said Minnie.

“What! and left two defenceless women at his mercy, sir? That won’t do; will it, Mary, my dear?”

“Well, then,” said Archie, “I should have called in old Sergeant Ripsy and a couple more men to hold him. Or why didn’t you give him a dose of something to send him to sleep? But I know. You got tight hold of the tooth and tugged it out.”

“How are you going to get tight hold of a savage’s tooth when you can see him ready to pull out his kris, and your hands are trembling like banana-leaves in a storm?”

“Well, I should have asked him to give me the kris to put away in case of accidents,” said Archie merrily.

“Ask a Malay to give you his head to put away in case of accidents!” cried the Doctor sarcastically. “No, sir; I took my courage in both hands and approached him.”

“Why, you were holding the instrument in one hand, sir,” said Archie merrily; and Minnie laughed.

“Ah, you are getting too sharp, sir,” cried the Doctor. “But I can tell you it was nervous work, and for a few minutes I felt sure that if I operated on him he would operate on me; and if I had thought of it at the time, I think I should have called in my wife to stand sentry with a revolver.”

“Oh dear me!” sighed Mrs. Morley, as she drew some work out of her handbag.

“Well,” continued the Doctor, “I got a good hold of the tooth at last, gave a wrench—”

“And out came the tooth,” said Archie quickly.

“No, it didn’t, sir; and as I stood over the man, looking down into his fierce eyes, he snatched his hand from his waist, and I turned cold, for I felt it was all over, when in an instant up came the other hand, and both of them closed over my wrist, giving me such a wrench that it quite startled me; and it was then that the tooth came out.”

“And the toothache was cured, sir?” cried Archie.

“Minnie, my dear,” said Mrs. Morley quietly, “do you notice any difference in that story since your uncle told it last?”

“Yes, aunt; it is much more flowery than it used to be.”

“Flowery!” growled the Doctor. “Why, Archie, my lad, that story is as true as true. Indeed, I should have been able to show you the great tooth as a proof, only the man took it away. He was one of my first patients when I came here; and I never had any fee.”

“For shame, Henry! The man is always bringing you fruit or fish. I am sure that he would do anything for you.”

“Well, yes,” said the Doctor, “he has been grateful in his way; but I never feel sure that those fellows will not make use of their krises.”