“Where did you learn English?” I exclaimed, more and more astonished.

“I is servant one time at British Lesident’s at de Maharajah’s city.  Pick up English dere.  Also pick up plenty lupee.  Velly good business at British Lesident’s.  Now gone back home to my own village, letired gentleman.”  And he drew himself up with conscious dignity.

I surveyed the retired gentleman from head to foot.  He had an air of distinction, which not even his bare toes could altogether mar.  He was evidently a person of local importance.  “And what did you want me to visit your village for?” I inquired, dubiously.

“White traveller sahib ill dere, sir.  Vely ill; got plague.  Great first-class sahib, all same like Governor.  Ill, fit to die; send me out all times to try find Eulopean doctor.”

“Plague?” I repeated, startled.  He nodded.

“Yes, plague; all same like dem hab him so bad down Bombay way.”

“Do you know his name?” I asked; for though one does not like to desert a fellow-creature in distress, I did not care to turn aside from my road on such an errand, with Hilda and Lady Meadowcroft, unless for some amply sufficient reason.

The retired gentleman shook his head in the most emphatic fashion.  “How me know?” he answered, opening the palms of his hands as if to show he had nothing concealed in them.  “Forget Eulopean name all times so easily.  And traveller sahib name very hard to lemember.  Not got English name.  Him Eulopean foleigner.”

“A European foreigner!” I repeated.  “And you say he is seriously ill?  Plague is no trifle.  Well, wait a minute; I’ll see what the ladies say about it.  How far off is your village?”

He pointed with his hand, somewhat vaguely, to the hillside.  “Two hours’ walk,” he answered, with the mountaineer’s habit of reckoning distance by time, which extends, under the like circumstances, the whole world over.

I went back to the tents, and consulted Hilda and Lady Meadowcroft.  Our spoilt child pouted, and was utterly averse to any detour of any sort.  “Let’s get back straight to Ivor,” she said, petulantly.  I’ve had enough of camping out.  It’s all very well in its way for a week but when they begin to talk about cutting your throat and all that, it ceases to be a joke and becomes a wee bit uncomfortable.  I want my feather bed.  I object to their villages.”

“But consider, dear,” Hilda said, gently.  “This traveller is ill, all alone in a strange land.  How can Hubert desert him?  It is a doctor’s duty to do what he can to alleviate pain and to cure the sick.  What would we have thought ourselves, when we were at the lamasery, if a body of European travellers had known we were there, imprisoned and in danger of our lives, and had passed by on the other side without attempting to rescue us?”

Lady Meadowcroft knit her forehead.  “That was us,” she said, with an impatient nod, after a pause—­“and this is another person.  You can’t turn aside for everybody who’s ill in all Nepaul.  And plague, too!—­so horrid!  Besides, how do we know this isn’t another plan of these hateful people to lead us into danger?”