“The poor man had two nasty cuts, deep and dangerous, and I heard them say while cleaning the wounds that he would probably not live. Though he looked so ignorant and dirty, I really felt sorry for the poor fellow, and wondered if I could be of much help. After the doctor put on the dressings, my turn came. In fact, I had more turns than I have ever had since, all in the space of five minutes. Round and round that Arab they wound me close. But to see the look of gratitude on his face when, in a clean shirt and on a nice spring bed, with me for company, he opened his eyes—well, it was worth the long journey, I can tell you. Over our bed there was a chart with No. 109, and the man’s name on it. There were also curious zigzag lines drawn every morning and evening across the chart. The doctor put these lines there, for I saw him do it, after inserting a fever thermometer in the patient’s mouth. I soon learned to know whether the line would go up or down by counting the heart-beats of my companion. Of course, being so close together, we learned to like each other, and I one day explained to him how the people away off in America had sent me as their little missionary for his comfort. On the opposite side of the ward there is a picture of Christ healing a blind man, which we used to look at. “They prayed for No. 109 and read a little to him, but I am sure he understood what _I_ told him much better. You see, until he got hurt he was very suspicious of Christians and believed all sorts of foolish things about them. Now he talked with the other patients and watched what was done for him, and felt me near him; it was a new life for him. His condition became more hopeful every day; I knew it by the way he began to enjoy his soup. Not that I was with him all the time myself. No; the other roller bandages had their turn, and I heard the rest of the story from them. Ahmed bin Haroon was discharged nearly cured on the first day of the Moslem fast month. He came back after for a visit, and is going about his work—the same fisherman. Only there is no telling how much he may think of what he saw and heard while he mends his nets at Zillag. And the missionaries are sure of a warm welcome in that village ever hereafter. “The day I was taken off duty and said good-bye to my patient I met such a lot of bandages down-stairs in the surgery; there seemed no end of them! Of course, most of them were common, from the Bahrein bazaar, and unbleached, but they had good stories to tell, nevertheless. I heard it stated on good authority that over a thousand yards of bandages were used up in one month. And when I saw the number of men, women and children with ulcers and abscesses, sitting on the veranda that day, I did not doubt the fact. Only I wish I could have told it to that salesman in New York and to the kind lady. Then there would have been more of us; for I am sure it is no trouble for the boys and girls to make rollers of us.