“And you have been hunting for the camp!” Van Rieten exclaimed. Etcham’s face, burnt and flayed as it was, showed a flush. “I missed some easy shots,” he admitted ruefully. “I’ve not felt ve’y fit myself.” “What’s the matter with your chief?” Van Rieten inquired. “Something like carbuncles,” Etcham replied. “He ought to get over a carbuncle or two,” Van Rieten declared. “They are not carbuncles,” Etcham explained. “Nor one or two. He has had dozens, sometimes five at once. If they had been carbuncles he would have been dead long ago. But in some ways they are not so bad, though in others they are worse.” “How do you mean?” Van Rieten queried. “Well,” Etcham hesitated, “they do not seem to inflame so deep nor so wide as carbuncles, nor to be so painful, nor to cause so much fever. But then they seem to be part of a disease that affects his mind. He let me help him dress the first, but the others he has hidden most carefully, from me and from the men. He keeps his tent when they puff up, and will not let me change the dressings or be with him at all.” “Have you plenty of dressings?” Van Rieten asked. “We have some,” said Etcham doubtfully. “But he won’t use them; he washes out the dressings and uses them over and over.” “How is he treating the swellings?” Van Rieten inquired. “He slices them off clear down to flesh level, with his razor.” “What?” Van Rieten shouted. Etcham made no answer but looked him steadily in the eyes. “I beg pardon,” Van Rieten hastened to say. “You startled me. They can’t be carbuncles. He’d have been dead long ago.” “I thought I had said they are not carbuncles,” Etcham lisped. “But the man must be crazy!” Van Rieten exclaimed. “Just so,” said Etcham. “He is beyond my advice or control.” “How many has he treated that way?” Van Rieten demanded. “Two, to my knowledge,” Etcham said. “Two?” Van Rieten queried. Etcham flushed again. “I saw him,” he confessed, “through a crack in the hut. I felt impelled to keep a watch on him, as if he was not responsible.” “I should think not,” Van Rieten agreed. “And you saw him do that twice?” “I conjecture,” said Etcham, “that he did the like with all the rest.” “How many has he had?” Van Rieten asked. “Dozens,” Etcham lisped. “Does he eat?” Van Rieten inquired. “Like a wolf,” said Etcham. “More than any two bearers.” “Can he walk?” Van Rieten asked. “He crawls a bit, groaning,” said Etcham simply. “Little fever, you say,” Van Rieten ruminated. “Enough and too much,” Etcham declared. “Has he been delirious?” Van Rieten asked. “Only twice,” Etcham replied; “once when the first swelling broke, and once later. He would not let anyone come near him then. But we could hear him talking, talking steadily, and it scared the natives.” “Was he talking their patter in delirium?” Van Rieten demanded.