ey would, for I know the Anscombes, or
used to, and I know the genus called Rodd."

"Don't be insulting; you may carry the thing too far one day, and
whatever I have done I have paid for. But you've not paid--yet."

"The man is very ill. You are a skilled doctor. If you're
afraid of him, why don't you kill him?" asked Marnham with bitter
scorn.

"There you have me," replied Rodd. "Men may shed much, but most
of them never shed their professional honour. I shall do my
honest best to cure Mr. Anscombe, and I tell you that he will
take some curing."

Then I woke up, and as no one was in sight, wondered whether or
no I had been dreaming. The upshot of it was that I made up my
mind to send Footsack to Pretoria for the oxen, not to go myself.

CHAPTER V

A GAME OF CARDS

I slept in Anscombe's room that night and looked after him. He
was very feverish and the pain in his leg kept him awake a good
deal. He told me that he could not bear Dr. Rodd and wished to
get away at once. I had to explain to him that this was
impossible until his spare oxen arrived which I was going to send
for to Pretoria, but of other matters, including that of the
dangerous state of his foot, I said nothing. I was thankful when
towards two in the morning, he fell into a sound sleep and
allowed me to do the same.

Before breakfast time, just as I had finished dressing myself in
some of the clean things which had been brought from the wagon,
Rodd came and made a thorough and business-like examination of
his patient, while I awaited the result with anxiety on the
stoep. At length he appeared and said--

"Well, I think that we shall be able to save the foot, though I
can't be quite sure for another twenty-four hours. The worst
symptoms have abated and his temperature is down by two degrees.
Anyway he will have to stay in bed and live on light food till it
is normal, after which he might lie in a long chair on the stoep.
On no account must he attempt to stand."

I thanked him for his information heartily enough and asked him
if he knew where Marnham was, as I wanted to speak to him with
reference to the despatch of Footsack to fetch the oxen from
Pretoria.

"Not up yet, I think," he answered. "I fancy that yesterday was
one of his 'wet' nights, excitement of meeting strangers and so
on."

"Wet nights?" I queried, wishing for a clearer explanation.

"Yes, he is a grand old fellow, one of the best, but like