It was in the middle of the hot weather, when the civil surgeon rushed into me at my office with a telegram in his hand.
"Will you arrange with Spiller for my work," he said excitedly, "I must be off at once. Read that--you see, I gave the assistant surgeon at the Bimariwallah dispensary a few days' leave off my own bat, and there's only a dresser in charge; so there will be the devil of a row if anything goes wrong."
The telegram read as follows: "Outbreaks of much plague amongst European gentlemen here. Please arrange for supplies of sufficient brandy."
"But there are no Europeans at Bimariwallah," I began.
"I know that," broke in the doctor, "and, of course, brandy isn't the right treatment; but that's just where it is. The fool of a dresser doesn't know English, doesn't know anything, so I'm bound to go."
"Well, if you'll curb your impatience for two hours, till I've finished this case, I'll motor you so far down the Trunk road, and dak you on. I have an Executive Municipal Council to-morrow morning at Raipur, and it's all on the way."
There had been a shower of rain--an advance scout of the coming monsoon to spy out the dryness of the land--so our spin of thirty miles down the road was pleasant enough, though the great wains of corn and straw that still defy the network of railways which has immeshed India, had possession of a large portion of the highway. But, to my mind, there is always something "satisfactory" in finding that no amount of preliminary hooting changes the path of the slow-moving wheels, and that, in the end, even a Siddeley-Wolsey car must either hold up until comprehension comes to the carter who moves as slowly as the wheels, or else pass by on a side-walking. It seems to presage safety; to give assurance that India will not, after all, run off the rails.
The buggy and horse were waiting at the cross roads, and it only needed a detour of three miles to drop the doctor at the very door of the dispensary.
Feeling some curiosity as to what was really the matter, I withstood his prayer to be set down and allowed to make his way on foot. I was glad I did; for the first glimpse I had of the dispensary compound assured me that something very unusual was taking place. To begin with, a long low reed shed, such as is used in cholera epidemics, had been hastily run up on the opposite side of the road, and in it were to be seen patients lying in their beds or out of them. Posts, each carrying a yellow streamer, were set up every ten yards around the compound itself, and at each gate stood a village watchman complete with speared staff and bells.
As we drove up, the dresser--pallid of face, but full of a vast importance--rushed out from a small hut which had been erected inside.