In less than two minutes, however, she reverted to her natural gait, which, like that of _Modestine_, was something as much slower than a walk as a walk is slower than a run. Under cruel and continuous beating I forced her to maintain a gait that I hoped would carry me to the hospital and back before night, six miles in an entire afternoon. Occasionally my spirit revolted from the ignoble occupation of so maltreating a poor dumb animal. But the moment I relaxed she turned aside from the road and began to browse. Each peasant that passed me threw back his head and laughed. An inward consciousness that I would have laughed myself if I had been in their place only added to my misery. “But O, what a cruel thing is a farce to those engaged in it!” Under the influence of their laughter and the perversity of _Modestine_ humanity died in my heart and I belaboured her with all the strength and vivacity that my health would allow, stopping only to get my breath and to mop the perspiration from my superheated brow. Of course, I might better have walked the rocky ascent; but in one thing I was as obstinate as the donkey—I would not give up my undertaking to ride her to the hospital and back. Besides, I kept hoping that, as she could not do worse, she might possibly do better; otherwise my arm should have failed me for despair. And to think that I was paying for all this disservice! By some strange fortuity of circumstances we actually reached the hospital, and afterwards the hotel, where I took final leave of her, a weary but a wiser man. At parting she again turned to me with an affectionate look of lamb-like innocence; but a deep sense of injury together with aching limbs rendered me insensible to her magnanimity. The people of Teneriffe are so far behind modern times that the barbers are still the surgeons. Dr. Ingram blistered Ndong’s congested lung and the barber was afterwards called in daily to dress the wound. After six days I took Ndong back to the hotel. He seemed on the way to recovery, and was much stronger on his feet. Under Mr. Marling’s teaching he had acquired a habit of prayer morning and evening to which he had ever been faithful. Nothing could surpass the pathos of the prayers that he offered thanking God for every kindness that he had received from anybody and pleading for his complete recovery. He knew that he was a great care to me and it troubled him. On one occasion he entreated: “O Father in heaven, please make me well; for I’ve been sick so long; and I’m so little; and I have no father nor mother.”