foreigners. Talking loudly and pushing inquisitively forward, they got in Sinclair's way. "Tell these fellows to shut their mouths and keep out of my road." on. MacKay interpreted it, more courteously perhaps, but forcibly. It was in silence and at a respectful distance that the Chinese officers continued to look Presently some more came in, louder spoken and more inquisitive than the first. "Tell that last bunch to get out. The rest can stay if they want. Tell their senior officer to set a guard. I'll have no more in here except on busi ness. It was done. The night wore on. Some of the hopeless cases found relief in death. From time to time others were brought in to take their places. Some of these had now been nearly forty-eight hours since being wounded, lying out in the long grass and brushwood of the hillsides or crawling slowly, painfully towards safety. Worse still, some had been through the hands of native quack doctors. The brief, grey dawn, followed by the swift sunrise, took the place of the night. Still Sinclair worked on, for still the pleading, wistful eyes of suffering men were watching his movements and still he heard them say in words whose meaning he had come to understand: 66 'I-seng lâi" (The life-healer comes). As he straightened himself after bending over a patient, Sergeant Gorman saluted him: "Excuse me, sir; but a bad case has just come in. If I am not mistaken, it is more in need of immediate treatment than any of the others I have seen." The jocular manner, the excessive brogue, the constant tendency to bulls and repetitions had dropped from Sergeant Gorman like a cloak. His manner was serious; his accent hardly noticeable; his bearing that of a thoroughly capable and efficient officer on important duty. "What is the injury, sergeant?" 66 A hand shot off at the wrist. The poor devil tied a cord around it to stop the blood. Been that way for two days without dressing. It's badly swollen, gangrened, and fly-blown." 66 Very well, sergeant. I guess we'll have to amputate at once. Where is the patient? "In the operating tent." Swiftly, surely the work was done, and the man carried back to a cot of boards in the improvised hospital. Sinclair was turning back to the wards to attend to other cases when an exclamation from MacKay arrested him: 66 Lee Ban! Is it possible?" A sampan had come down with the current and run its bow ashore at the hospital. A man was lifted out and deposited on the bank, up which he crawled painfully on hands and knees. His face was drawn and ghastly with suffering. His clothing, which had once been rich, was torn to ribbons. It was Lee Ban, one of the wealthiest merchants of Keelung. He had sent his family away to safety earlier, but had to stay himself till the day of the bombardment. When escaping from the town a shell had exploded near his chair. A fragment had passed through the bottom of it, at the same time shearing away the entire calf from one of his legs. He had paid the chair-bearers generously. But they fled for their lives and left him where he lay. He had the name of being the most charitable citizen of Keelung, and he saw many a one that day whom he had helped with his means. But they rushed past him, utterly unheeding. War had kindled in them the primal instinct of self-preservation, and had subordinated every human feeling to brute fear. He bound his leg as best he could and started to crawl towards safety. All day he crept on hands and knees, and through the night until he lay exhausted and unconscious. In the morning he bribed some soldiers who were searching for wounded to carry him to the camp. They took him to a native doctor, who plastered the great open wound with a mixture of mud and cow-dung. Then he heard that Kai Bok-su was here, and the foreign doctor. He had himself brought to them. While he told his story in Chinese to MacKay, Sergeant Gorman and his helpers had carried him to a cot and were unbandaging the leg for the doctor's inspection. "For the love of heaven!" The great, gaping wound, extending from the knee to the ankle, was alive with maggots. This also is one of the glories of war. E XII MATUTINAL CONFIDENCES IGHT o'clock on the morning Dr. Sinclair left Tamsui for the front found the consul in the breakfast room. Clean-shaven, dressed in spotless white, he looked as cool and fresh, and was as prompt to the minute, as if he had enjoyed a perfect night's rest. A moment or two later Mrs. Beauchamp entered. "Good-morning, Harry. I am afraid that I have disgraced myself by being late," she said with a little mock anxiety. 66 Not at all, my dear. My wife is never late. I think my watch is a few seconds fast." "Thank you, Harry. You always find an excuse for me." "Oh, no! it is not that," replied her husband, as if ashamed that he should allow any partiality to cause him to swerve from his rigid rule of punctuality. Really, I am a little ahead of time. I'm deuced hungry this morning. I could hardly wait for Ah Soon to get breakfast ready." 66 66 What time did you come to bed last night? I believe that I did not hear you at all." "You certainly did not. You were sleeping so soundly that the French might have bombarded Tamsui and come ashore and carried you off without you waking." "Oh, Harry! I think that's real mean of you. You know perfectly that I know your step and movements so well, that I sleep just as soundly when you are moving about as when there is absolute silence. But any other person's step would waken me at once." "You're right there. I do not believe that you heard me this morning, either." "No, I did not. What time did you rise? I think it is not a bit fair of you to steal out of bed like that without awaking me. And then to wait down here with your watch in your hand to catch me ten seconds late! I do not like that. I have a mind to get offended." "Hold! This is getting tragic. 'You've ungently, Brutus, Stole from my bed You stared upon me with ungentle looks. Let's change the subject. May I have another cup of coffee?" What an anti-climax! From high tragedy to hot coffee! How shocking!" 66 Where is Constance?" "I fancy that she is sleeping yet." "Was she not put to bed at her usual time?" "Yes. But the amah says that, once the singing began, she wakened up and insisted on getting out where she could hear it better. She was out on the upper verandah all the time. So she didn't waken as early as usual. But she'll be down soon.' "She should have been made stay in bed." "Oh, well! we cannot tie her down too hard and fast. She dearly loves singing, and she has taken a most extraordinary fancy to Dr. Sinclair." |