anders walked back to the
Residency with the girl. For a little while they spoke of Bones and his
newest craze, and then suddenly the girl asked--

"You didn't really think there were any of those funny things in my
blood, did you?"

Sanders looked straight ahead.

"I thought--you see, we know--the tryp is a distinct little body, and
anybody who had lived in this part of the world for a time can pick him
out. Bones, of course, knows nothing thoroughly--I should have
remembered that."

She said nothing until they reached the verandah, and she turned to go
to her room.

"It wasn't nice, was it?" she said.

Sanders shook his head.

"It was a taste of hell," he said simply. And she fetched a quick, long
sigh and patted his arm before she realized what she was doing.

Bones, returning from his hut, met Sanders hurrying across the square.

"Bones, I want you to go up to the Isisi," said the Commissioner.
"There's an outbreak of some weird disease, probably due to the damming
of the little river by Ranabini, and the flooding of the low forests."

Bones brightened up.

"Sir an' Excellency," he said gratefully, "comin' from you, this tribute
to my scientific----"

"Don't be an ass, Bones!" said Sanders irritably. "Your job is to make
these beggars work. They'll simply sit and die unless you start them on
drainage work. Cut a few ditches with a fall to the river; kick Ranabini
for me; take up a few kilos of quinine and dose them."

Nevertheless, Bones managed to smuggle on board quite a respectable
amount of scientific apparatus, and came in good heart to the despondent
folk of the Lower Isisi.

Three weeks after Bones had taken his departure, Sanders was sitting at
dinner in a very thoughtful mood.

Patricia had made several ineffectual attempts to draw him into a
conversation, and had been answered in monosyllables. At first she had
been piqued and a little angry, but, as the meal progressed, she
realized that matters of more than ordinary seriousness were occupying
his thoughts, and wisely changed her attitude of mind. A chance
reference to Bones, however, succeeded where more pointed attempts had
failed.

"Yes," said Sanders, in answer to the question she had put, "Bones has
some rough idea of medical practice. He was a cub student at Bart.'s for
two years before he realized that surgery and medicines weren't his
forte."

"Don't you sometimes feel the need of a doctor here?" she asked, and
Sanders smil