Page:Rowland--The Mountain of Fears.djvu/140

  cried, in his big, discordant bass. 'They do not know the fever when they see it; they say it is the lung, but I know that it is the fever, also.'

But, my dear fellow,' I protested, 'I am not a physician; I am nothing but a collector.'

" Peste! he answered, for, as he was an Austrian and I a Hollander, we talked in French. 'There is no one who knows more of the pernicious malaria than yourself. Will you come and see the little Jacob!'

" 'But I am already overdue with my specimens,' I objected.

" Diable! he growled. 'What are weeds and stones and ancient rubbish to the life of my dear little Jacob? You shall lose nothing, and if you save his life'—he hauled a chamois bag from some recess of himself and threw a glittering handful of gems upon my bunk—'help yourself; take them all, if you like. Some of them I hold as security, but it makes no difference'—the man grinned'—I get them all in the end.' [ 124 ]