On the riverside of promise Read Online Free PDF Page B

prove quite problematic
in his line of work.”
     
    Ethan shook the doctor’s hand with some
hesitation, shaking his head in ignorance:
     
    “I can’t say I’m quite following you,
doctor.”
     
    Dr. Manteuffel wiped the sweat on his
forehead with the arm holding the writing pad and exhaled briskly
with the hint of a slight laugh:
     
    “Distasteful doctor’s humor, Mr. Owls. Can I
call you Richard? Please call me Ludwig, we’ll be on the road
together for some time. This isn’t exactly a dinner party we’re
going to, yes?”
     
    A number of people around them was busy
loading the Land Rovers with all sorts of crates, bags, and sacks
with everything from gauzes to canned food and flour. Ethan looked
quite accustomed to the heat and the Nigerian sun, at odds with the
stocky German doctor who seemed to be discomforted immensely, even
though he tried his best not to show it. Ethan nodded with a
sparkly grin and said:
     
    “Can’t see any drinks on offer, and the
timing’s off too. Ludwig, then?”
     
    The german doctor motioned with his pad to
the paltry shade offered by a nearby tent, filled with crates
stamped with the sign of the Red Cross and Ethan lead eagerly. The
doctor replied:
     
    “You can also call me Baron. It’s a nickname
my colleagues often use, jokingly of course.”
     
    “No real title then?”
     
    “Oh, the family name is old and at some point
there was some land associated with it. The land was sold but the
title stuck. The war, you see.”
     
    Ethan put down his knapsack and welcomed the
shade, settling on a crate. His eyes seemed suddenly old, staring
outside at the crowd of volunteers when he said:
     
    “There’s always some kind of war going on.
Isn’t that why you’re here now?”
     
    The doctor put down his pad on one of the
crates, pulled a fold-up chair from a corner of the tent, spread it
open and sat down, his relief obvious in the way he splayed his
feed, heels on the dirt. He took a few short breaths before
answering in a peculiar, thoughtful voice:
     
    “I’m here to help in what way I can. Famine
and disease are just as lethal as bullets from what I’ve seen. But
why are you here?”
     
    Ethan frowned in puzzlement and smiled in his
usually disarming way. He tried to sound casually baffled when he
said:
     
    “Tell the world what’s going on in Biafra.
Take some pictures. Perhaps ask London for a raise too once I’m
famous.”
     
    The doctor put one leg on top of the other
and seemed somewhat distraught, perhaps worried:
     
     
    “So, a professional. I was hoping for a bit
of a romantic you see. Every help we can get is better than none at
all. And frankly, you look like you don’t need much help in these
parts.”
     
    Ethan crossed his arms against his chest,
purely an instinctive defensive motion that only helped to show his
nervousness. His charm didn’t seem to work as intended, and his sly
grin was his way of showing he genuinely liked the plump Prussian
doctor for his openness:
     
    “What can I say, I’ve been places. Suez.
Kenya. Angola. Vietnam.”
     
    The doctor reached into his sweat-stained
shirt’s pocket and procured a pack of Camels. He put one into his
mouth and proffered one to Ethan as well, who politely nodded his
refusal, the grin unwaveringly attached on his tanned face. The
doctor got up from his seat, while searching around for something
to light his cigarette. His reply came with a slightly muffled
voice:
     
    “I’m sure you enjoy travelling. A lot, I
might add. Light?”
     
    Ethan laughed and felt somewhat unburdened.
He offered Dr. Manteuffel a lighter from one of his pants’ side
pockets:
     
    “I can’t really say what’s on your mind,
Ludwig.”
     
    The doctor lit his Camel and seemed to
cherish the moment before answering, his eyes squarely meeting
Ethan’s gaze before asking him straight:
     
    “Are you going to be trouble? We don’t need
any more trouble where we’re going.”
     
    Ethan took his lighter