“Never saw a match before,” said Mark, as if to himself, while directly after as the wick of a little lamp burned up brightly behind the glass which sheltered its flame, there was another murmur of astonishment and a faint rustling sound as of a tiny crowd collecting to see this wonder which gave light like a brand taken from a fire.
It was but a small flame, but sufficient to find reflectors in many eyes which peered behind the trees, and as by the light of this little illumination the doctor went down on one knee beside the wounded pigmy, who gazed up at him in wonder, he drew off the white handkerchief, the one with which Dan had supplied Mark clean washed that morning.
“Come closer, Mark,” said the doctor. “I want you to hold the lamp.”
Mark released the hand of the little savage, which clung to his tightly, and went round behind the injured pigmy’s head, meeting the wondering eyes, and laying his hand upon the little fellow’s head with a friendly touch, before gazing anxiously down and watching the doctor’s movements.
There was a faint gasp to follow the doctor’s first touch, and a low thrilling sound arose, evidently from a group of watchers behind the trees.
“Medical men go through strange experiences, Mark,” said the doctor, in a low tone, “but not many have such a case as this.”
“’Tis rather horrid,” said Mark.
“Hold the light lower, so as to throw it just upon his shoulder.”
Mark obeyed.
“Well, I suppose I had better go on,” said the doctor quietly, “and hope that I shall not have half a dozen spears stuck into me if my patient shrieks out.”