In the third game of polo a clumsy player struck Mr. Jacobs on the
back of his head, laying open his skull. The wounded man fell from his
saddle, but his foot caught in the stirrup, and he was dragged several
miles by the infuriated Arab pony.
"Don't give him brandy," remarked Miss Eastinhoe, calmly. "Water will
do quite as well. It is cheaper, and, as he is insensible, he will not
know the difference."
"Thank you," replied Jacobs, gracefully tying his head together with
a white woollen shawl. "We will start on the tiger hunt to-morrow."
He carefully lighted a cigarette and rode home.
"Briggs," Jacobs said, producing a mysterious trick bottle, "do as I
tell you or you are a dead man. Stuff this wax into your nose, and
bathe the back of my neck with this powerful remedy unknown to your
Western medicine. I shall then fall asleep. If I do not wake before
midnight, I shall sleep until breakfast time. You can easily arouse me
by pressing the little silver knob behind my left ear. If you cannot
remember, write it down."
Being a newspaper man, I naturally took out an old letter upon which
to jot down his instructions. I faithfully carried out all his
directions, and it is to be remarked in passing that on removing the
wax from my nostrils, I was conscious of a strong odor of Scotch
whiskey.