But the doctor was made of too stern stuff to be troubled in this way, even after the promptings of his companions; and wading on, with the water feeling deliciously cool as it plashed musically about his feet, he noted that the brown face looked fixed and strange, the lips parted, revealing the black, filed teeth, and such an air of exhaustion displayed in the eyes, that he hurried his steps. "What is the matter?" he said, in the Malay tongue; but the woman did not reply, only raised one hand feebly and let it drop. Black, brown, or white, it was the same to Dr Bolter. Here was a patient asking help in her mute way; and taking her hand, he quickly felt her pulse. "No fever. Exhaustion," he muttered, softly, laying her farther back, so that after dipping some of the cold water in the cup of his spirit-flask, and adding a few drops of some essence, he could trickle it gently between the sufferer's lips. She made an effort to swallow, and did so, uttering a low moan the next minute, followed by a piteous sigh. "Drink a little more," he said, in the Malay tongue; and she obeyed mechanically, as he held the silver cup to her lips. "Poor girl," he continued, to himself, "her feet are cut and bleeding, and she has hurt herself with falling--Here! hoi! Ismael! Ali!" The rocks echoed his cry, and the two men approached tremblingly. "Come along, you stupid fellows!" he cried. "It is nothing to be afraid of;" and after a few more angry admonitions the two boatmen came up and helped to carry the insensible girl down to the boat, when, a snug place close by in the rocks having been picked out, the sufferer was placed upon a roughly-prepared couch formed of the doctor's overcoat and his waterproof sheet; then a macintosh was laid over her, and she seemed to fall off into a heavy sleep. "That keeps us here for the night," said the doctor; and being hungry, a fire was lit, and a capital little dinner of preserved game and fish prepared, of which all partook, and then made preparations for passing the night. VOLUME THREE, CHAPTER THIRTEEN. MEDICAL AID. Doctor Bolter visited his patient two or three times, waking up with the greatest of regularity every two hours for the purpose, and administering a few drops of a cordial that he always carried wherever he went, it having wonderful qualities of its own, so the doctor said, and being competent to cure almost every disease, but smelling very strongly of brandy. His patient slept heavily, and she was still sleeping as the doctor's coffee was ready just before sunrise. "Humph!" he muttered; "it's a precious good job my wife isn't here, or she'd be as cross as two sticks, for the poor thing is a wonderfully handsome girl in spite of her black, filed teeth, and dark skin. Poor lassie! how she has scratched herself. Why, her feet are cut and swollen and full of thorns. I'll bet ten pounds to twopence she's a runaway slave." There was no one to take the bet, and the doctor went on: