The veterinary and his gig jolted merrily over the puszta. His good little horse knew its lesson by heart, and needed neither whip nor bridle. So, the doctor could take out his note-book, reckon, and scribble. All at once, looking up, he noticed a csikÓs approaching, his horse galloping wildly.

The pace was so mad that both rider and steed seemed to be out of their minds. Suddenly the horse rushed towards him, stood still, reared, and then swerved aside, taking another direction. Its rider sat with head thrown back, and arched body, clutching the bridle in both hands, while the horse shook itself, and began to neigh and snort in a frightened manner.

Seeing this, the doctor seized whip and reins, and made every endeavour to overtake the horseman. As he got closer he recognised the csikÓs. "SÁndor Decsi!" he exclaimed. And the rider appeared to know him also, and to slacken the bridle as if to allow the horse to go nearer. The clever animal reached the doctor's gig, puffing and blowing, and there stopped of its own accord. It shook its head, snorted, and, in fact, did everything but speak.

The lad sat in the saddle, bent backwards, his face staring at the sky. The bridle had dropped from his fingers, but his legs still gripped the sides of his horse.

"SÁndor, lad! SÁndor Decsi!" called the doctor. But the boy seemed not to hear him, or hearing, to be incapable of speech.

Jumping from his trap, the doctor went up to the rider, caught him round the waist, and lifted him out of the saddle.

"What ails you?" he said.

But the lad was silent. His mouth was shut, his neck bent back, and his breath came in quick gasps. His eyes, wide open, had a ghastly gleam, which the dilation of the pupils rendered all the more hideous.

Laying him flat on the turf, the doctor began to examine him. "Pulse irregular, sometimes quick, sometimes stopping completely, pupils widely dilated, jaws tightly closed, back curved. This young fellow has been poisoned!" he cried, "and with some vegetable poison, too."

The doctor had found the csikÓs midway between the HortobÁgy inn and the little settlement at Mata. Probably he was on his way to the hamlet when the poison first began to act, and had tried as long as consciousness lasted to get there; but when the spasms seized him, his movements became involuntary, and the convulsive twitching of his arms had startled the horse. It was also foaming at the mouth.

The doctor next attempted to lift him into the gig, but the lad was too heavy, and he could not manage it. Still, to leave him on the puszta was impossible. Before he could return with help the eagles would already be there, tearing at the unfortunate man. All this time the horse looked on intelligently, as if it would speak, and, now bending its head over its master, it gave some short abrupt snorts."Well, help me then," said the doctor.

Why should he not understand, a puszta steed, who has three-quarters of a soul at least? Seeing the doctor struggling with his master, it caught hold of his waistcoat with his teeth, and raised him, and so between them, they managed to get the csikÓs into the gig. Then the doctor knotted the horse's halter to the back of the trap, and galloped on to the settlement.

There, it is true, were hospital and pharmacy, but only for animals. The doctor himself was but a cattle doctor. In such cases, however, he may help who can. The question was, could he?

The first thing to do was to discover what poison was at work, strychnine or belladonna. At all events, black coffee could do no harm.

Arrived at the farm, the doctor called out his assistant and his housekeeper. Coffee was ready, but aid was necessary before the patient could swallow. His jaws were so tightly locked that they had to force his teeth apart with a chisel before it could be poured down."Ice on his head, a mustard plaster on his stomach," ordered the doctor; and there being no spare person at hand, he carried out his own directions, at the same time giving instructions to his assistant, and writing a letter at the table. "Listen," he said, "and think of what I am telling you. Hurry in the gig to the HortobÁgy inn, and hand this letter to the innkeeper. If he is not at home, then tell the coachman my orders are to put the horses in the calÉche, and go as fast as he possibly can to town, and give this sealed letter to the head doctor there. He must wait and bring him back. I am a veterinary surgeon, and on oath not to practise on beasts 'with souls.' The case needs help urgently, and the doctor will bring his own medicine. But ask the innkeeper's daughter for every grain of coffee she may have in the house, for that the patient must drink until the real doctor comes. Now, see how sharp you can be!"

The assistant understood the task imposed on him, and made all haste to get under way. The poor little grey had hardly had breathing time before it was rattling back to the inn.

KlÁri happened to be on the verandah, watering her musk-geraniums, when the gig drove up.

"What brings you, Pesta," she asked, "in such a fearful hurry?"

"A letter for the master."

"Well, it will be difficult to get a word out of him, because he is just putting a new swarm into the hive."

"But it is an order from the vet," said Pesta, "to send the carriage to town immediately for the best doctor."

"The doctor? Is someone ill? Who has the ague now?"

"None of us, for the doctor picked him up on the meadow. It is SÁndor Decsi, the csikÓs."

The girl gave a cry, and the watering-can fell from her hands. "SÁndor? SÁndor is ill?"

"So ill that he is trying to climb up the wall, and bite the bed-clothes in his agony. Somebody has poisoned him."

The girl had to clutch the door with both hands to prevent herself falling."Our doctor is not sure what is killing the herdsman, so he is obliged to summon the town doctor to inspect him."

Then KlÁri muttered something, but what could not be heard.

"See, leave go the door, miss," said the assistant, "and let me in to look for the master."

"Doesn't he know what has hurt him?" stammered the girl.

"And the doctor's message to you," added Pesta, "is to collect all the ground coffee in the house, and give it to me. Till the other doctor comes with medicine, he is treating SÁndor Decsi with coffee, for he can't tell what poison they gave the poor fellow." Then he hurried off to search for the innkeeper.

"He can't tell what poison," murmured KlÁri to herself, "but I can—if that be the danger, why I could tell the doctor, and then he would at once know what to give him."

She ran into her room, and opening the chest took from its bottom, the man-shaped witch roots. These she stuffed into her pocket.Cursed be she who had given the evil counsel, and cursed be she who had followed it!

Then she set to work grinding coffee, so that by the time the assistant returned from the garden, where he had been forced to help with the swarm, the tin box was quite full.

"Now give me the coffee, miss," said he.

"I am coming with you."

The assistant was a sharp lad and saw through the sieve. "Do not come, miss," he said, "you really must not see SÁndor Decsi in such a state. It is enough to freeze one's marrow to look at his agony. Besides, the doctor would never allow it."

"It is just the doctor I want to speak to," said the girl.

"But then who will attend to the customers?"

"The servant-girl is here, and the lad, they'll manage."

"But at least ask the master's permission," begged Pesta.

"Not I!" cried KlÁri, "he would not let me go. There, get out of the way."So saying, she pushed the assistant aside, flew out into the courtyard, and with one bound was seated in the gig. There she seized the reins, flourished the whip about the poor grey's back, and drove where she wished. The assistant left behind gasping, shouted after her,

"Miss KlÁri! Miss KlÁri! Stop a bit!" But though he ran till he was breathless, he only caught the gig at the bridge, where the tired horse had to go slowly up the incline. Then he too jumped on to the seat.

Never had the grey's back felt such thwacks as on this drive to Mata! By the time they reached the sandy ground, it could only go at a walk, and, the girl, impatient, sprang from the gig, and catching hold of the canister, rushed over the clover field to the doctor's farm, which she reached panting and speechless.

Through the window the doctor saw her coming and went to meet her, barring her way at the verandah.

"You come here, KlÁrika! How is that?"

"SÁndor?" gasped the girl."SÁndor is ill."

Through the open door the girl could hear the groans of the sick man.

"What has happened to him?"

"I don't know myself, and I don't want to accuse anyone."

"But I know!" cried the girl, "someone—a wicked girl—gave him something bad to drink. I know who it was too! She stirred it into his wine, to make him love her, and that made him ill. I know who it was, and how it was."

"Miss KlÁri, do not play the traitor. This is a serious crime, and must be proved."

"Here are the proofs."

And with that girl took the roots out of her pocket, and laid them before the doctor.

"Oh!" cried the doctor, stupefied, "why, this is Atropa mandragora—a deadly poison!"

The girl clapped her hands to her face, "How did I know it was poison?" she asked.

"KlÁrika," said the doctor, "do not startle me more or I shall jump out of the window. Surely you did not poison SÁndor?"

The girl nodded mutely.

"And what in thunder did you do it for?"

"He was so unkind to me, and once a gypsy woman made me believe that if I steeped that root in his wine I should have him at my feet again."

"Well, I never! ... You must hold traffic with gypsy women, must you? To school you won't go, where the master would teach you to distinguish poisonous plants. No, no, you will only learn from a gypsy vagabond! Well, you have made your lad nice and obedient!"

"Will he die?" asked the girl with an imploring look.

"Die? Must he die next? No, his body and soul are not stitched together in such a ramshackle fashion."

"Then he will live!" cried the girl, and knelt down before the doctor, snatching his hands, and kissing them repeatedly.

"Don't kiss my hand," said he, "it is all over mustard plaster, and will make your mouth swell."

So she kissed his feet, and when he forbade that, also his footprints. Down on the brick floor she went and kissed the muddy footprints with her pretty, rosy lips.

"Now, stand up and talk sense," said the doctor. "Have you brought the coffee? ground and roasted? Right—for that is what he must drink till the doctor comes. It is well you told me what poison the lad took, for now I know the antidote. But as for you, child, make up your mind to vanish from these parts as soon as you like, for what you have done is a crime, which the town doctor will report, and the matter will come before the court and judge. So fly away, where there are no tongues to tell on you."

"I won't fly," said the girl, drying her tears with her apron. "Here is my neck, more I can't offer. If I have done wrong, it is only just that I should suffer for it, but from this spot I won't stir! The groaning I hear through the door binds me faster than if my feet were in fetters. Doctor! sir! for God's sake let me be near to nurse him, to foment his head, smooth his pillows, and wipe the sweat from his brow."

"Indeed! Is that your idea? Why, they would clap me into the madhouse, if I entrusted the nursing of the victim to the poisoner."

A look of unspeakable pain came over the girl's face.

"Does the doctor believe that I am really bad then?" she asked. Glancing round she caught sight of the damnatory root lying on the window-sill, and before he could stop her, had grasped it, and was putting it into her mouth.

"No, no, KlÁrika," said the doctor, "do not play with that poison. Don't bite it, take it out of your mouth instantly. I would rather allow you to go to the patient, though it is no sight for you, as I tell you beforehand. No tender-hearted person should see such suffering."

"I know; your assistant told me everything. How one cannot recognise him, his face is so changed. Dark blotches instead of healthy red colour, death-like shadow on his forehead, and cold perspiration shining on his cheeks. His eyes are wide open with a glassy stare, his lips seem gummed together, and if he opens them they foam. How he groans, struggles, gnashes his teeth, tosses his arms about, and contorts his back! An agonising sight! But let this be my punishment, to feel his moans and sufferings, like so many sharp knives stabbing my heart. And if I do not actually witness them with my own eyes and ears, I shall still seem to see and hear them as acutely as if I was really present."

"Well," said the doctor, "let us see if you are really brave enough. Take charge of the coffee-pot, and have black coffee always ready; but if you burst out crying I will push you out of the room."

Then he opened the door and allowed her to enter.

The world went blue and green to the girl as her eyes fell on her sweetheart lying there. Where was the radiant young fellow who had left her such a short time ago? Now it was painful to look at him, to endure the sight of him.The doctor called in his assistant, and the girl stifled her sobs as best she might, over the coffee-pot. If the doctor caught the sound of one he would glance at her reproachfully, and she would pretend it was a cough.

The two men applied mustard plasters to the patient's feet.

"Now bring your coffee and pour it into his mouth," said the doctor.

But that was a business! Both had to exert their full strength to hold down the lad's arms, and prevent his flinging them about.

"Now, KlÁrika, open his mouth; not like that! You must force his teeth apart with the chisel. Don't be afraid, he won't swallow it. See, he holds it as fast as a vice."

The girl obeyed.

"Now pour in the coffee by the spout, gently. There you are a clever girl. I can recommend you to the Sisters of Mercy as a sick nurse!"

There was a smile on the girl's face, but her heart was breaking."If only he would not look at me with those eyes!"

"Yes," said the doctor, "that is the worst of all, those two staring eyes. I think so too."

At length there seemed some little improvement, possibly the effect of the remedy. The patient's groans became less frequent, and the cramp in his limbs relaxed, but his forehead burned like fire. The doctor instructed the girl how to wring out the cold water bandage—lay it on the aching head, leave it a little, and then change it again. She did all that he bade her.

"Now I see that you have a brave heart," he said, and in time came her reward, for to her joy the sufferer suddenly closed his eyelids, and the terrible stare of those black-shadowed eyes ceased altogether. Later his mouth relaxed and they were able to open the close-shut jaws without difficulty.

Maybe it was the prompt application of the antidote; maybe the dose of poison had not been strong, but by the time the doctor from town had arrived, the patient was very unmistakably better. The veterinary and the doctor conversed in Latin, which the girl could not understand, but her instinct told her that it was of her they were speaking. Then the doctor ordered this and that, and after writing the usum repertum, returned to his carriage, and hastened back to town.

Not so the gendarme whom he had brought with him on the box. He remained. Hardly had the physician gone, when another trap rumbled into the yard. This was the HortobÁgy innkeeper, who had come to demand his daughter.

"Gently now, master," they said, "the young woman is under arrest. Don't you see the gendarme?"

"I always did say that when once a girl loses her head she goes mad altogether. Well, it's no concern of mine." And with charming indifference the old innkeeper thereupon turned and drove back to the HortobÁgy inn.