elder man kept close to his side, and the Englishmen, finding that their well-meant remarks tended only to increase the young man's painful nervousness, gave up the attempt and left the Chinamen to themselves.

It was drawing towards sunset when they reached the plantation on which Forrester was employed. The long march through the hot and humid air had tired them all, and the condition of the sick man had become alarming. With the planter's traditional hospitality, the manager, Mr. Paterson, at once arranged to receive the captain in the bungalow he shared with Forrester, and offered to accommodate the Chinamen for the night in one of his godowns. At the instance of the elder man the younger politely, but with evident reluctance, declined this offer, preferring to push on to Dibrugarh, only a few miles away. The Englishmen did not press them; they were anxious to have as soon as possible the opinion of Dr. Malcolm, the medical officer of the gardens, on the invalid's chances of recovery.

"Eh, man, it's a verra bad case," said the bluff Scots surgeon after making his examination. "Malaria is bad enough, as ye know, but I would not say but this is jungle fever. However, never say die; I'll do what I can."

Early next morning Forrester rode over to Dibrugarh, and telegraphed to a military friend of Mr. Paterson's in Calcutta, asking if anything was known of Captain Redfern. The manager had advised this course in preference to communicating with officials, as likely to avoid red tape and save time. In a few hours the answer came:--