No More Learning

"Eyes, Pansay--all Eyes, Brain, and Stomach. And the greatest of these
three is Stomach. You've too much conceited Brain, too little Stomach,
and thoroughly unhealthy Eyes. Get your Stomach straight and the rest
follows. And all that's French for a liver pill.

"I'll take sole medical charge of you from this hour! for you're too
interesting a phenomenon to be passed over. "

By this time we were deep in the shadow of the Blessington lower road
and the 'rickshaw came to a dead stop under a pine-clad, over-hanging
shale cliff. Instinctively I halted too, giving my reason. Heatherlegh
rapped out an oath.

"Now, if you think I'm going to spend a cold night on the hillside
for the sake of a stomach-cum-Brain-cum-Eye illusion--Lord, ha' mercy!
What's that? "

There was a muffled report, a blinding smother of dust just in front
of us, a crack, the noise of rent boughs, and about ten yards of the
cliff-side--pines, undergrowth, and all--slid down into the road below,
completely blocking it up. The uprooted trees swayed and tottered for a
moment like drunken giants in the gloom, and then fell prone among their
fellows with a thunderous crash. Our two horses stood motionless and
sweating with fear.
As soon as the rattle of falling earth and stone had
subsided, my companion muttered:--"Man, if we'd gone forward we should
have been ten feet deep in our graves by now. 'There are more things
in heaven and earth. . . ' Come home, Pansay, and thank God. I want a peg
badly. "

We retraced our way over the Church Ridge, and I arrived at Dr.
Heatherlegh's house shortly after midnight.

His attempts toward my cure commenced almost immediately, and for a week
I never left his sight. Many a time in the course of that week did I
bless the good fortune which had thrown me in contact with Simla's best
and kindest doctor. Day by day my spirits grew lighter and more equable.
Day by day, too, I became more and more inclined to fall in with
Heatherlegh's "spectral illusion" theory, implicating eyes, brain, and
stomach. I wrote to Kitty, telling her that a slight sprain caused by a
fall from my horse kept me indoors for a few days; and that I should be
recovered before she had time to regret my absence.

Heatherlegh's treatment was simple to a degree. It consisted of liver
pills, cold-water baths, and strong exercise, taken in the dusk or at
early dawn--for, as he sagely observed:--"A man with a sprained
ankle doesn't walk a dozen miles a day, and your young woman might be
wondering if she saw you. "

At the end of the week, after much examination of pupil and pulse, and
strict injunction' as to diet and pedestrianism, Heatherlegh dismissed
me as brusquely as he had taken charge of me.