Without seeming to notice the insolent taunt, Isa Dás at once went into his hut to gather together the few means of cure which he possessed. He then followed the servant to the residence of the Amir, which was not half a cos distant (not a mile). Can carved doors shut out sorrow, or will the embroidered pillow give ease to an aching head? The dwelling which Isa Dás entered was one of comfort and elegance, but it was now one of pain and grief. Isa Dás found the Amir's son stretched on a rich divan, with a broken limb, a body covered with bruises, and blood-stained bandages, instead of a handsome turban, bound round his head. The lad's eyes were closed; his face was deadly pale; only a little twitching of pain, and an occasional moan showed that life had not departed. Beside his only son, grief and fear expressed in his face, stood Ahmed Khán. Behind the rich curtain which divided the room, could be heard the sound of weeping from the purdah-women beyond. Isa Dás, after examining the poor lad's hurts, saw that the case was a difficult one, but not one without hope. Silently praying for God's blessing on his work, the doctor set the broken limb, he bathed and bound the bleeding head, he applied healing salve to the bruises. All during that night Isa Dás watched by his patient. And after resting awhile on the following day, at night, he resumed his watch. The house was very different indeed from that in which the poor oilman had breathed his last; air was admitted in abundance, the swing of the punkah never ceased; the patient's hands were bathed in rose-water, and his thirst relieved by cool sweet sherbet. Much courtesy was shown to Isa Dás by the Amir, who could seldom be persuaded to quit the sick-bed of his son. It a little surprised the Mahommedans at first that the converted Hindu had none of the prejudices of his race regarding food, but ate whatever was offered to him, sanctifying it by prayer. On the third day the English doctor was able to come. He examined the patient, and pronounced him to be out of danger. The Amir devoutly thanked God, and his exclamation was echoed by the ladies behind the purdah, who had not unfrequently come in to see the sick son of one, and nephew of another, but who had hurried back to their retreat on the English doctor's arrival, fearful lest he should catch a glimpse of their faces. "Your son has been well and skilfully treated," said the European. "Who was it who set the broken limb?" The Amir pointed to Isa Dás. "He evidently knew his business well," said the English doctor. The Amir made a sign to one of his servants, who brought to him a fine turban, and a silken bag. From this bag the Amir took out five rupees (more than 9s.) and placed them, with the turban, in the hands of Isa Dás. *