"Forget Eulopean name all times so
easily. And traveller sahib name very hard to lemember. Not got English
name. Him Eulopean foleigner."
"A European foreigner!" I repeated. "And you say he is seriously ill?
Plague is no trifle. Well, wait a minute; I'll see what the ladies say
about it. How far off is your village?"
He pointed with his hand, somewhat vaguely, to the hillside. "Two hours'
walk," he answered, with the mountaineer's habit of reckoning distance
by time, which extends, under the like circumstances, the whole world
over.
I went back to the tents, and consulted Hilda and Lady Meadowcroft. Our
spoilt child pouted, and was utterly averse to any detour of any sort.
"Let's get back straight to Ivor," she said, petulantly. "I've had enough
of camping out. It's all very well in its way for a week but when they
begin to talk about cutting your throat and all that, it ceases to be
a joke and becomes a wee bit uncomfortable. I want my feather bed. I
object to their villages."
"But consider, dear," Hilda said, gently. "This traveller is ill, all
alone in a strange land. How can Hubert desert him? It is a doctor's
duty to do what he can to alleviate pain and to cure the sick.
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