During the evening of the third day F---- got a bad attack of fever, the
intermittent fever common in all the Danubian Provinces. After supper
the rain came on again, not violently, but enough to make everything
very damp. I felt that under the circumstances the hut was a very bad
place for him, so I cast about to see what I could do. As good-luck
would have it, not very far off I discovered a horizontal fissure in the
cliff, a sort of wide slit caused by one rock overhanging another ledge.
It was fortunately sheltered from the wind, and promised to suit my
purpose very well.
I collected a pile of sticks and firewood, thrust them blazing into the
cavity, and fed the fire till the rocks were fit to crack with the heat.
I remembered having seen cottagers heat their ovens in this way in
Somersetshire. I now raked out the fire and all the mortuary remains of
insects, and then laid down a plaid thrice doubled for softness. Having
done this, I seized upon my friend, weak and prostrate as he was, and
shoved him into his oven like a batch of bread. I had previously given
him a big dose of quinine (without which medicine I never travel in
these parts), and now I set to work rubbing him, for he was really very
bad indeed. In ten minutes or so F----became warm as a toast. The
terrible shivering was stopped, so my plan of baking was succeeding
capitally. It is true he complained a little of one shoulder being
rather overdone, but that was nothing.
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