“But, being pigs, ye did not believe; and so came I here to save you, first from Smallpox, next from a great folly of fear, and lastly, it may be, from the rope and the jail. It is no gain to me; it is no pleasure to me: but for the sake of that one who is yonder, who made the Bhil a man”—he pointed down the hill—“I, who am of his blood, the son of his son, come to turn your people. And I speak the truth, as did Jan Chinn.” The crowd murmured reverently, and men stole out of the thicket by twos and threes to join it. There was no anger in their god’s face. “These are my orders. (Heaven send they’ll take ’em, but I seem to have impressed ’em so far!) I myself will stay among you while this man scratches your arms with the knives, after the order of the Government. In three, or it may be five or seven, days, your arms will swell and itch and burn. That is the power of Smallpox fighting in your base blood against the orders of the Government. I will therefore stay among you till I see that Smallpox is conquered, and I will not go away till the men and the women and the little children show me upon their arms such marks as I have even now showed you. I bring with me two very good guns, and a man whose name is known among beasts and men. We will hunt together, I and he and your young men, and the others shall eat and lie still. This is my order.” There was a long pause while victory hung in the balance. A white-haired old sinner, standing on one uneasy leg, piped up: “There are ponies and some few bullocks and other things for which we need a _kowl_ [protection]. They were not taken in the way of trade.” The battle was won, and John Chinn drew a breath of relief. The young Bhils had been raiding, but if taken swiftly all could be put straight. “I will write a _kowl_ so soon as the ponies, the bullocks, and the other things are counted before me and sent back whence they came. But first we will put the Government mark on such as have not been visited by Smallpox.” In an undertone, to the vaccinator: “If you show you are afraid you’ll never see Poona again, my friend.” “There is not sufficient ample supply of vaccination for all this population,” said the man. “They destroyed the offeecial calf.” “They won’t know the difference. Scrape ’em and give me a couple of lancets; I’ll attend to the elders.” The aged diplomat who had demanded protection was the first victim. He fell to Chinn’s hand and dared not cry out. As soon as he was freed he dragged up a companion, and held him fast, and the crisis became, as it were, a child’s sport; for the vaccinated chased the unvaccinated to treatment, vowing that all the tribe must suffer equally. The women shrieked, and the children ran howling; but Chinn laughed, and waved the pink-tipped lancet.