“Ah,” said the doctor, in the most unruffled way, “no wonder the poor fellow’s in such a state. Here, Mak—water—water. Let the arm sink down now, Mark, and take the light again. I want water, and I ought to have a basin and sponge. What can you get the water in? I don’t want to wait while he is going back to the waggons. I can manage if you will only bring the water.”
There was probably some spring in the forest known to the pigmies, and after some little time two good-sized gourds were brought full of the refreshing fluid.
“Now, Mark, send Mak to get some of that fresh green moss from off the trees.”
This was done, the wound carefully cleansed and dried, a piece of lint saturated with some of the contents of a bottle the doctor took from his case, and the moistened antiseptic linen was applied to the wound, the whole being carefully bandaged and secured, before the doctor rose from his knees.
“There,” said he, “this is a curious experience.”
“But will he get better now, doctor?”
“I can’t say. I don’t know. What I do know is that I don’t think he would have lived another week with his arm in that state. It was all going bad, from shoulder to elbow. I must dress it again to-morrow, and then we shall see.”
“Then that means that we are not going on to-morrow,” said Sir James.
“I am at your orders, sir.”
“No,” said Mark’s father; “you are captain, doctor, and I don’t think we ought to be in such a hurry to get on. I should like to see a little more of the habits of these people and how they live. There must be a great deal to interest us, so certainly we will stay for a day or two, and see how your patient is.”