We welcomed the newcomer, who was head of the hospital staff in Windhuk, and presently discovered that the contingent of ancients which we had just encountered represented the pick of the Club. The partly rejuvenated graybeards had been doing their daily "jerks" in the gymnasium when our 'planes were sighted, and they had sallied forth immediately. The remainder of the members were under treatment for such minor complaints as sore throats, sprains, broken bones, sciatica, and so on. The physician in charge also regretted to state that four of the members had expired since arriving in Windhuk. One had died from heart failure, another from pneumonia, another from apoplexy as a result of overexertion, and another had simply lost heart and pined away.
Gran'pa was clearly upset.
"What a pity!" he murmured, as we set out for the sanatorium. "What a pity! I had hoped to pull this thing through without any loss of life. How many do you consider able to undergo the operation to-day, Dr. Martin?"
"All except six or seven. That is, about eighty."
"More than enough!" grunted Gran'pa. "Take us over to the sanatorium, give us something to eat and drink, and then we'll explain matters. By that time my fiancée should have arrived by train from Swakopmund."
Dr. Martin said that he was glad to hear it, and also indicated that our sudden arrival was very welcome—though a little unexpected.
"What do you think of the old chaps?" he asked.
"Splendid!" exclaimed Gran'pa. "In fact, the glands seem superfluous. . . ."
"Not quite," chuckled the doctor. "But very nearly. . . ."
"What have you been up to, eh?"