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Updated: June 23, 2025


"Sorry, old chap," faltered Furley and fainted. He came to himself in front of the sitting-room fire, to find his lips wet with brandy and his rescuer leaning over him. His first action was to feel his leg. "That's all right," Julian assured him. "It isn't broken. I've been over it carefully. If you're quite comfortable, I'll step down to the village and fetch the medico. It isn't a mile away."

"Come, come, Mr Hamerton," said the medico; "I have looked after young Andrews, and I must now see to you. You may think yourself made of iron, but the human frame cannot endure the strain you have put on it without reaction; and we shall have you on the sick-list to-morrow, unless you take due precautions."

The stories of the tree giving out deadly fumes had no foundation, for the curator had himself sat for three hours under the tree without experiencing any bad effects whatever. All the legends of the upas tree are based on an account of it by a Dr. Foersch in 1783. This mendacious medico declared that no living thing could exist within fifteen miles of the tree.

But he was fully alive to the frightful nature of the peril from which he had so narrowly escaped, and was so earnest and profuse in his thanks to Dick for having twice saved his life in the course of a few hours that at length the young medico laughingly threatened to gag him if he did not instantly change the topic of conversation.

Though also surprising him, as does the sort of people he sees around. First, there is a lady, easily recognised as the angel; then a man of military aspect, who addresses her as "Hermanita," unquestionably a gentleman with a second and older man wearing spectacles, by both spoken of as "el medico."

Mr Bowles sped to the doctor's cabin, and found that individual already "roused out," with an open case of surgical instruments on the table, and a drawer open, from which he was hastily selecting lint, bandages, etcetera; the medico having been awakened by the first pistol-shot, and, like a sensible man, bestirring himself at once in preparation for the repair of damages, without waiting to learn first whether there were any damages to repair or not.

When we got back to Argamasilla the Medico was already awaiting us. He conducted us to the house of the Quijanas, where an old woman-servant, lamp in hand, showed the way down a flight of steps into the dungeon. It was a low vaulted chamber, eight feet high, ten broad, and twenty-four long, dimly lighted by a lancet window six feet from the ground.

This peculiar date is a favorite one with the little medico.

I asked, like a quick-firing gun. "The sooner the better, while old Theobald's away on his honeymoon." Our medico had married the week before, nor was any fellow-practitioner taking his work at least not that considerable branch of it which consisted of Raffles during his brief absence from town. There were reasons, delightfully obvious to us, why such a plan would have been highly unwise in Dr.

On the way to the field hospital he had taken more than one nip of whisky. His voice was well oiled when he sang a greeting to a medical major in a florid burst of melody from Italian opera. The major was a little Irish medico who had been through the South African War and in tropical places, where he had drunk fire-water to kill all manner of microbes.

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