Fortunately a carriage was hitched at the British consulate and the driver sitting in the shade near by. They put Klinger inside, while Phil and Sydney remained to support him, and thus they drove hurriedly to Klinger’s residence back of the store. “This isn’t going to improve the kind feeling between us and the ‘de facto’ government,” Phil said. “I’m glad you are not responsible,” Sydney declared. “But I was,” Phil insisted. “I goaded him on to strike me. I had an irresistible desire to take his whip and give him a plentiful taste of his own medicine. He would have struck me, too. I saw it in his eyes. He has an ungovernable temper, and was clean off his head.” “Why will you be so rash?” Sydney asked affectionately. “Some day you’re going to get into serious trouble.” “I can’t help it, Syd,” Phil answered soberly. “Such acts as that, beating an inoffensive native, make my blood boil, and I’m thankful I have the courage and strength to interfere. You would have done it too, Syd,” he exclaimed, “if you had seen it before I did.” Sydney shook his head. “No,” he replied. “My blood is more sluggish than yours. You did exactly right though, Phil.” Phil was silent for a moment. Klinger’s face was now regaining its color, but his body was still limp and his eyes closed. “Syd,” Phil said quietly, “you are really more solid than I. You reflect before you act. I too frequently act upon impulse without reflection.” “You act, though, only upon good impulses,” Sydney replied. The carriage stopped in front of the Kapuan firm’s store, and a couple of bystanders were impressed to carry the injured man inside. “Go tell the ‘fomai,’” Phil instructed a native woman, and she departed quickly to obey. “Shall we wait?” Phil asked nervously. This part of the ordeal was trying for the midshipman. “I guess we must,” Sydney replied. “We shall have to explain how it happened.” Phil frowned. “I’m not going to reveal the identity of that native boy. Maybe Klinger did not recognize him.” The manager had been carried into his own room, while Fanua, his native wife, hovered over him anxiously. She gazed in open distrust upon the two officers. “Here comes the little doctor,” Sydney exclaimed in relief, as the same fat, middle-aged man that had before restored the injured Klinger after his earlier encounter with Phil pushed his way through the crowd of inquisitive natives, and entered the room. Klinger had opened his eyes. The pain in his throat made him cry out weakly. The doctor examined the injured man’s neck in silence. “A black boy run ‘amuck’[37]?” he asked after he had finished the examination. “It looks as if a whole gang had risen against him.” Klinger tried to speak, but his voice failed. “We’ll leave now,” Phil returned. His nerves were under tension. He felt no sympathy for Klinger, yet wished to avoid a disagreeable scene with the injured man. “I shall be ready to give my story whenever it is asked for. Good-day, sir.”