not approve of a large, gaunt man
falling over him in a dead faint, not so much because of the weight as
because of the names and blows that Faiz Ullah dealt him when he found
the body rolled under a bench. Then Faiz Ullah took blankets, quilts,
and coverlets where he found them, and lay down under them at his
master's side, and bound his arms with a tent-rope, and filled him with
a horrible stew of herbs, and set the policeman to fight him when he
wished to escape from the intolerable heat of his coverings, and shut
the door of the telegraph-office to keep out the curious for two nights
and one day; and when a light engine came down the line, and Hawkins
kicked in the door, Scott hailed him weakly but in a natural voice, and
Faiz Ullah stood back and took all the credit.

"For two nights, Heaven-born, he was pagal" said Faiz Ullah. "Look at my
nose, and consider the eye of the policeman. He beat us with his bound
hands; but we sat upon him, Heaven-born, and though his words were tez,
we sweated him. Heaven-born, never has been such a sweat! He is weaker
now than a child; but the fever has gone out of him, by the grace of
God. There remains only my nose and the eye of the constabeel. Sahib,
shall I ask for my dismissal because my Sahib has beaten me?" And Faiz
Ullah laid his long thin hand carefully on Scott's chest to be sure
that the fever was all gone, ere he went out to open tinned soups and
discourage such as laughed at his swelled nose.

"The district's all right," Scott whispered. "It doesn't make any
difference. You got my wire? I shall be fit in a week. 'Can't
understand how it happened. I shall be fit in a few days."

"You're coming into camp with us," said Hawkins.

"But look here--but--"

"It's all over except the shouting. We sha'n't need you Punjabis
any more. On my honour, we sha'n't. Martyn goes back in a few weeks;
Arbuthnot's returned already; Ellis and Clay are putting the last
touches to a new feeder-line the Government's built as relief-work.
Morten's dead--he was a Bengal man, though; you wouldn't know him. 'Pon
my word, you and Will--Miss Martyn--seem to have come through it as well
as anybody."

"Oh, how is she, by-the-way?" The voice went up and down as he spoke.

"Going strong when I left her. The Roman Catholic Missions are adopting
the unclaimed babies to turn them into little priests; the Basil Mission
is taking some, and the mothers are taking the rest. You should hear the
little be