“His mental powers are failing,” a third declared, while a fourth was of the belief, and argued his point learnedly, that an operation for appendicitis would set him right at once. “’Tis the common lot of mankind,” he maintained, “and he cannot hope to escape it. He has been slower in developing the condition, because he is younger, and his environment has been different. But you see for yourselves to what he is reduced. It is what might have been anticipated, and the condition should be met at once.”
“On the contrary,” a new comer said, “The Man is manifestly very low. His blood is impoverished. He needs building up—building up, I say. Transfusion of blood is what is wanted. Then, with his magnificent constitution, he’ll pull through all right.”
This treatment struck the assembled council as likely to do good, and they at once decided to act upon the new comer’s suggestion. The case was a desperate one and called for desperate remedies.
In the circulatory system of an individual who enjoyed excellent health a great commotion was taking place.
“Have you heard the news?” the little red blood-corpuscles were saying to each other, “some of us are to be sent abroad to a new organism. It is out of order, and we are to institute a reformation.”
There was a great confusion of preparation, but finally everything was in readiness, and a large number of corpuscles were sent upon their errand of mercy. In the bustle attendant upon the change the early incidents of the journey escaped note, but there was, among the visitors, one little corpuscle who, after the first few moments, being a wide-awake fellow, resolved to keep his eyes open and take notes upon his adventures in this new and strange country.
He was in the heart when he began his notes. That great organ suddenly contracted, and with many of his companions he was forced into the lungs, where he gave up the load of carbon dioxide which he had picked up as he hurried through the veins, and received in exchange a modicum of oxygen to be distributed to the organism. He did not receive as much oxygen as he was accustomed to have. He experienced a certain curious difficulty in getting to the front to obtain his supply. He could not understand it at the time, but thinking it over as he hurried back through the pulmonary circulation to the heart, he recalled that certain of the native corpuscles had crowded ahead of him, seeming in great anxiety lest their own supply be curtailed. In a conversation which he overheard between them they characterized him as an interloper, telling each other they ought to rise and drive him and his fellows from the organism. “They are all coming in here to consume the oxygen that belongs to us,” they complained.
“Funny,” he thought to himself, “They only want enough to supply themselves and exchange with the organism for nutriment. There is surely nothing else they can do with it. This seems a very strange country.”
By this time he was back in the heart, ready for his life-giving, life-receiving journey through the organism. He was close by the semi-lunar valves, just about to leap forward into the aorta, when—
“Hold on!” exclaimed the valve, “you have not paid the toll.”