The attendant Smith--he who had been so unfortunate as to earn the major's ill-will--shot back the bolt, and, as Jim stepped into the cell, made haste to secure the door behind him.
The patient fixed a glare of bovine ferocity on his caller as Jim advanced towards him.
"Morning, major! Men pretty fit this morning?"
The major had been about to hurl himself at the young fellow when Jim's words stirred an old memory in his inflamed brain.
"What's that to you--who are you?" he growled.
"The officer commanding the expedition," rapped out Jim.
The major's manner changed on the instant.
"The men are as well as can be expected, sir, considering the beastly bad water. Three more down with enteric to-day."
"Dear--dear!" exclaimed Jim, "that's bad. Well, major, we must hope for the best--hope for the best. And how are you yourself?"
"I think I've got a touch of the sun, sir," said the major, "but I daresay it'll pass off. I've been feeling queer up here for several days now," he added, touching his forehead.