Without a word he swung on his heel, hailed the landlord, and enquired for some home-made lemonade. Boniface was sorry but he was unable to oblige. But the doctor was not to be put off. He curtly ordered the landlord to prepare some instantly and what is more to the point he followed him to see that it was brewed correctly.
After the meal he insisted that we should take a brief rest to assist its digestion, which, owing to the weakened condition of our organs, was no easy matter. Then, when we all felt fit, we returned to the traction engine. You can imagine how we clustered round the doctor thanking him for his kindness, but he would not listen to our expressions of gratitude. Laughing good-naturedly, he maintained that he had done nothing beyond what he considered to be his duty, and as we shouldered the ropes once more, he gave us a parting cheer.
That meal put new life into us, and we towed the load with such gusto that we covered the second lap of the distance in fine style. When we reached the camp and were dismissed, the incident about the doctor's munificence flashed through to its four corners like lightning. It became the one topic of spirited conversation. We had always voted the doctor a jolly good fellow, but now he was the hero of the hour. When he next came into the camp he received such a thundering and spontaneous ovation as to startle him, until at last the reason for this outburst dawned upon him. But he turned it off with his characteristic laugh and joke.
The privations which I had been suffering now began to assert their ill effects. I felt I was breaking up rapidly, and in this every one concurred and grew anxious. The doctor took me in hand, placed me on a "pass" and at last ordered me to lie down in the barrack. Two of my companions, Ca——, a breezy Irishman who had been arrested while on his honey-moon, and K——, undertook to look after me. As the night advanced I rapidly grew worse, until eventually my illness assumed such a turn, so I was informed afterwards, as to cause my two friends the greatest alarm. Ca—— went out to the guard with a message addressed to Dr. Ascher, explaining that Mahoney was very much worse and they feared his condition was critical. By some means or other the message was got through to the doctor, possibly by telephone.
It was a vile night. A terrific thunderstorm was raging, and the rain was falling in torrents. After dispatching their message my two friends resumed their vigil beside my bed, hoping against hope that Dr. Ascher would call early the following morning.
About midnight the mad galloping of a horse was heard faintly above the wail of the wind and the fusillade of the mad downpour upon our hollow-sounding roof. The sounds drew nearer to stop outside our barrack door. A hurried conversation was heard, and the next moment, to the surprise of my two friends, the door opened to admit Dr. Ascher. The rain was pouring off him in tiny rivulets and he cheerily confessed that he was soaked to the skin. But he pooh-poohed the idea that he had taken too much trouble. A fellow-creature was in peril and he could not, as a doctor, resist the call which had been sent. He stayed with me some time, told my companions exactly what to do, and then went out again into the rainstorm with the parting intimation that he would return within a few hours, and would arrange for my instant transference to the hospital.
At six he was back again. By this time I had recovered from my delirium and felt somewhat better, although exceedingly weak. He chatted with me, told me I was far worse than I either looked or felt, and insisted upon my going into hospital. I demurred, as I preferred to be among my chums. But he was not to be gainsaid, and so I had reluctantly to be carried into bed. He came to see me frequently during the day, and even went so far as to assume the responsibility of telegraphing to Berlin demanding my instant release as my demise seemed very probable. But this request was curtly refused, mainly, so I discovered afterwards, because I was imprisoned upon the charge of espionage. The circumstance that this charge was still hanging over my head came as an ugly eye-opener to me. I thought from my transference from Wesel to Sennelager that I had been acquitted of this accusation. Of course I had never received any official intimation to this effect, but on the other hand I had never received a sentence. This revelation worried me somewhat sorely because I could see possibilities about which I scarcely dared to think, as well as complications untold looming ahead.
I must have been in a very precarious condition the previous night because a member of a well-known British family who had been interned at Sennelager, but who secured his release about this time, very kindly sought out one of my relatives upon his return home, to whom he communicated particulars concerning my illness and serious condition. He hesitated to notify my wife directly, preferring to leave it to my relative to convey the unwelcome news in the manner considered to be the most advisable. For this kindly action, of which I was apprised after my transference from Sennelager, I have ever been extremely thankful, but up to the present I have successfully evaded all the most insidious attempts made by my German captors to secure my premature decease by undermining my health.
Before leaving me in hospital for the night Dr. Ascher paid me a final visit to make positive that I was comfortable. But that one night's sojourn in the hospital almost completely unnerved me. I could not sleep, and to my alarm I found that no one ever came in to take even a cursory glance at the patients. I got up in the darkness and went to the door. To my astonishment I found it to be locked! I turned to one cot. It contained a French invalid who was jabbering away excitedly to himself, but I could not understand a single word. I turned to the next bed and its occupant was half-delirious. With such depressing company around me I tumbled back into bed and went off to sleep again somehow. In the morning I learned that there were three intercommunicating wards. The two inner ones were reserved for patients, upon whom the key was turned at night, while the third and outer room was occupied by a night warder who turned in and slept the sleep of the just, although he was nominally in charge of critical cases. But this was immaterial. If the patient went under during the night to be found dead in bed in the morning—well! it was merely a case of Nature having had her own way.
I was so alarmed that the instant the hospital was opened I hurried back to my barrack. Dr. Ascher, upon reaching the hospital and noting my absence, wondered what had happened, until at last he found me resting in my bunk. I resolutely told him that under no circumstances would I spend another night in that hospital. I had my own way. The crisis had passed, and if I only took care of myself I would soon be out again, he said.