“But you don’t think that the Malays—”
“Yes, I do—I think that they are very untrustworthy. They dislike us for religious reasons as well as for taking possession of their country, and, in short, there are times when I can’t help feeling that we are living on the slopes of a moral volcano which might burst forth at any moment.”
“But, Doctor, they seem so friendly.”
“Yes, my lad; as you say, they seem so friendly.”
“Why, lots of the people quite worship you. See how they come for advice.”
“Oh yes,” said the Doctor dryly, “I get plenty of native patients; but that doesn’t make their own doctors any fonder of me. Still, I dare say I can get on very well, and, as I have suggested, I may be too suspicious. Nothing may happen for years—perhaps never. But you are a soldier.”
“Well, yes, sir,” said the lad, laughing. “Old Ripsy’s trying to make me one.”
“And you are a soldier, my lad; and though you mayn’t have to fight, you will quite agree with me that it is wise to keep your powder dry.”
“Of course, sir.”
“There’s no harm in that, eh?”