A day or two after Warner had become the unwilling possessor of the
mangy skin, which, by the way, he promptly buried as soon as its donor's
back was turned, he set out on a three days' journey from his camp to
visit a white trader with whom from time to time he transacted business
of some kind. He went on foot, accompanied only by a few natives, one of
whom carried the box of medicines.
While he was resting during the midday heat, the Headman of the
neighbouring village approached him with many signs of deference.
"Good day to you, Great Doctor."
"Good day to you," Warner replied.
"Are you indeed the Great Doctor?"
Warner was bold enough to say he was.
"Will the Great Doctor help me with medicines? My wife, who is very old,
suffers from a great sickness. Her arms are now no thicker than a stick.
Pain is with her always. She never sleeps. All day long and all the
night she lies and moans. She no longer cries out. Will not the Great
Doctor kill this sickness? I have told her of you."
Warner rose abruptly. He felt a lump rising in his throat. He wished he
were a doctor instead of merely the owner of a box of drugs and all but
ignorant of the uses to which they should be put.
"Where is your wife?" he asked gruffly.
"The Great Doctor will come!" exclaimed the delighted old native,
leading the way towards his village.
Warner could distinguish little or nothing when he found himself inside
the Headman's hut. Coming in directly from the outside glare made it
difficult to see. The native pointed to a form propped up against the
pole which supported the roof of the hut.
Warner looked; suddenly he saw all there was to see, and gasped as a
faint moan of pain reached his ears. A thin old woman lay there with
closed eyes, so thin that Warner marvelled that she could be alive. Her
arms and legs, too, for that matter were indeed, as the Headman had
said, as thin as sticks. Her distended ribs showed plainly even in the
dim light. She had neither hair nor flesh on her skull, merely wrinkled,
dull brown skin adhering closely to the bone. Her neck was no thicker
than one's wrist. Her stomach was enormous.
Warner looked down upon this poor, emaciated creature with horror.
She moaned again.
Her husband said: "See, woman, here is the Great Doctor of whom all men
speak. He has turned aside from his journeying to make you well with
medicines. Does he not make all men well? Do not the people say so? Soon
you will be well and will laugh again. Soon you will sit in the sun or
go to the fields. Do you hear, woman? The Great Doctor has come."
Warner cursed under his breath. He never expected this sort of thing
when he lightheartedly accepted from the hospital orderly the box of
medicines with a conjuring trick thrown in. The thought of that
conjuring trick was nauseating in the presence of this pain.
Save for the rapid heaving of her bony chest to laboured breathing, the
woman had made no move since he entered the hut. Now, however, Warner
saw the drooping eyelids flicker. A fear seized him that the poor
creature would look up. He couldn't stand that. He couldn't meet her
eyes. He hurried away, saying he would bring some medicine.
He reached his resting place and opened his box. Right on the top lay
the bottle of chlorodyne. He repeated to himself: "Chlorodyne, good for
pains in the stomach! Chlorodyne, good for pains in the stomach!"
Warner returned to the hut but wouldn't go in. He pushed the bottle into
the old man's hand saying, parrot-like: "Good for pains in the stomach,
give her some water with it."
Then he went back to his halt again, called to his boys to pack up and
follow him, anxious only to put distance between himself and all that
pain and suffering.
Ten days later Warner passed by that village again on his return
journey. He could have followed another route, but a strong desire to
ask about the woman drew him to the village. He must know about the
woman. He had casually asked the trader with whom he had transacted his
business how much chlorodyne one usually takes at a dose. The reply:
"Oh, about fifteen drops or from ten to twenty, according to your size,"
nearly made his heart stand still. And he, the Great Doctor, had given
the old native a full bottle of the stuff! True, he had not told him how
much to take, but Warner found scant consolation in this thought.
As he and his carriers neared the village, he heard a great commotion,
men shouting to each other and women making that shrill quavering noise
familiar to all travellers in Africa. He thought he could distinguish
the word "doctor." He was certain of it now. "The Great Doctor is
coming. He who saves the people! The white man with the medicines! The
Doctor! The Doctor!"
The natives broke through from the bush on every hand. They surrounded
the little party. The carriers were quickly relieved of their loads.
There was no mistaking the nature of the demonstration; it was one of
goodwill, not of hate.
The old Headman hobbled up, praising Warner lustily.
What could it all mean?