The Boy Fortune Hunters in China by L. Frank Baum

I advanced with a respectful bow and found myself looking squarely into the eyes of the injured man. Then I gave a start of surprise, for a young man -- almost a boy, he seemed -- was smiling at me from the pillows as cheerily as if greeting an old friend who had come to take part in a jubilation.

In my recollections of him I have never thought of Prince Kai Lun Pu as a Chinaman. His features bore certain characteristics of his race, assuredly; but he was so thoroughly Europeanized, so cultured, frank and agreeable in demeanor, that no one could possibly think of him otherwise than as a royal good fellow whom it was a privilege to know. With his poor maimed body covered by the counterpane, the pleasant -- almost merry -- expression of his boyish face made one doubt that he had been injured at all, and I thought he looked as little like a dying man as anyone could.

"You are young Mr. Steele," said he in perfect English, "and I am well pleased to see you, sir; for you have rendered me a rare service and have earned my lasting gratitude."

"It was a simple duty," I responded, with an answering smile; "but I am glad I was able to serve so important a personage, Prince."

"Important? " said he, arching his eyebrows; "ah, perhaps you might find me so, were we together in my own province of Kwang-Kai-Nong. " A shadow passed over his face, and he sighed; but next moment, with renewed cheerfulness, he added, "but we are not in China, Mr. Steele, and aboard your noble ship the humble passenger must defer to your own more powerful individuality. " He cast an amused glance at the Death's-Head and said:

"Defer, Mai Lo, to the noble American; defer for us both, since I am helpless!"

The attendant, outwardly unmoved and unresponsive, prostrated himself before me, and then resumed his former position. I could not resist a light laugh at the ridiculousness of the performance, and the Prince joined in the merriment. Then, suddenly recollecting myself, I became grave and asked:

"Are you suffering, Prince? Do you think you are badly hurt?"

The bright eyes regarded me intently for an instant, after which he turned to the Death's-Head.

"Leave me, Mai Lo; I would converse with my host," said he.

The attendant again prostrated himself, this time to his Prince, and retired without a word of protest. But almost immediately the Doctor came hurrying in, and there was protest in both his words and demeanor.

"Look you, Prince Kai," he said, "this is no time for reckless folly. I gave you morphine to quiet your pain and enable you to sleep, and you positively must not excite yourself and neutralize the effect of the medicine."

The young man gave him a look half whimsical, half sympathetic.

"My dear Gaylord," said he, "you have, in your wisdom, numbered the hours remaining to me, and I accept the decree as final. But why should I sleep during those brief hours, when rest eternal will soon be mine?"

The Doctor flushed and cast down his eyes. He was a good-hearted man, and not yet calloused in the presence of death. The Prince smiled upon him in kindly fashion and asked:

"Is there an ample supply of morphine?"

"There is ample, my Prince."

"Then listen to my wish. I do not care to sleep, nor do I want to suffer in the brief time you have allotted me. Let me secure all the pleasure I am able to until the Earth Dragon completes his vengeance upon me. That will be kind, dear Doctor, and your reward shall be provided for."

The old surgeon took the Chinaman's hand and pressed it warmly.

"Never mind the reward, my Prince," said he. "I'm out of a job just now, and am glad to experiment upon you, so I shan't get rusty. Your wish shall be respected."