Cochise review., 1900-09-24

You've given me the creeps, Pam- phlett! l think I'll turn in now" A month later Noel Sheriff was toss- ing restlessly on bed of sickness. His pinched face and blue lips told elo- quently enough of the severity of his symptoms, and his nurse and his doc tor shook their heads despondingly over his case.
 But it was Pamphlett who sat up at night, and who lowered round the sick bed by day, taking his rest by snatches when he could. It was to Pamphlet that the sick boy turned for amusement and for solace, and so far the native had not failed him.
 One afternoon he heard strange footsteps ascending the stairs, and he rose softly and went to the door. A stout, red-faced man was panting for breath on the landing.
 My name is Sumpter, surgeon to the hospital for tropical diseases. Dr. Jones asked me to see young Sheriff, as he was not at all sure of the cause of the illness which is killing the lad"
 The black eyes and the gray eyes met in ardent conflict. and the black gave down before the gray.
 "I'll join you in the room below" said Sumpter, with a tightening of the lips "when'-and he emphasized the word-"I have finished my examina- tion"
 Tt appears from the history that the lads symptoms began three weeks ago, and he seems to think that some curry he ate was the origin of his troubles. He says that it didn't agree with him, and l can quite believe that" (But never word spoke Pamphlett.) "A curious thing found out, and that was, by an error on the cooks part, only enough curry for one was sent up. By a little questioning 1 found out that you and he tossed for it, and curiously enough, you lost, MT. Pamphlet. Now, the only point on which 1 am in the dark is: Did you give him powdered glass, iinely-cut up, camels hair or bamboo chips, eh?"
 The voice was so cold and yet so mer- ciless in its directness that sunenly enough the native surrendered.
 "CamelE hair" he said, between his teeth.
 And so you've taken up with an Eng ish lad who in the goodness of his heart, makes friend of you, which not one in a thousand would, and you poi son him? You live together, work to- gether, and you poison him. 1 know your race thoroughly. Few do, admit, but do; and, by my fathers soul, there isn't another eur like you from one end of India to the other!"
 Thoughtfully Pamphlett stood aside to let his master-for such he felt him already to be-pass in; and still more thoughtfully, he went to the appointed place, and waited for long minutes with what patience he could muster. Pres ently the heavy tread warned him that the moment for battle had come, and he braced himself for the fray.
 Now, MT. Pamphlett, the case up- stairs is exceedingly interesting to an old Anglo-Indian surgeon. The boy ia suffering from what we used to call 'zenana cholera
 The native insensibly dropped into the attitude of appeal all natives as sume when before the European. His head was bent, and he stood with his hands crossed on his breast.
 70, my father and my motherl" he began, in Hindoostanee, dropping at once the European metaphor and as- suming the picturesque native idiom, the words of wisdom have indeed fall en from thy lips, It is given to the pro- tector of the poor to know the inmost thoughts of his servant, and foolish would thy slave be to hide anything.
 Thy servant had father who was far above all other parents in his kind ness and in his care for his children. Ten years ago he was nearly killed by wicked men who cut his head with swords and broke his arm most evilly. When in time he recovered he left us with his blessing and went to holy shrine to return thanks for his recov- cry.
 "On the way Azrael touched him, and, laying himself down in the long grass at the roadside, he went to his gods in silence. After seven years the accursed Feringhi, now lying upstairs, passed by and found the poor remains of the holy pilgrim.
 Did he pass by in reverence? No! o powerful one. He picked up the bones of my father and made them a byword and scoff. He was of different faith from our people; but he did not even re- spect our feelings.
 Your high honor would have slain the intidel on the spot; not so your servant. He administered the poison to satisfy the spirit, wandering now q homeless phantom until the sacred rites are fulfilled. It is finished."
 Sumpter had said nothing, but the se- yerity had gone from his face as he listened to the passionate words.
 "Go!" he said, after pause; take your relics-take your books and your goods and go to holy Ganges. Burn there the unburied bones, and then re- turn to your village. Do not attempt to