“For a long while we stared at each other, for I was determined that I would not speak first or show any concern.  At last he spoke in a low, deep voice and in Mazitu, or a language so similar that I found it easy to understand.

“’Is not your name Dogeetah, O White Lord, and are you not a master of medicine?’

“‘Yes,’ I answered, ’but who are you who dare to wake me from my sleep?’

“’Lord, I am the Kalubi, the Chief of the Pongo, a great man in my own land yonder.’

“’Then why do you come here alone at night, Kalubi, Chief of the Pongo?’

“‘Why do you come here alone, White Lord?’ he answered evasively.

“‘What do you want, anyway?’ I asked.

“‘O!  Dogeetah, I have been hurt, I want you to cure me,’ and he looked at his bandaged hand.

“’Lay down that spear and open your robe that I may see you have no knife.’

“He obeyed, throwing the spear to some distance.

“‘Now unwrap the hand.’

“He did so.  I lit a match, the sight of which seemed to frighten him greatly, although he asked no questions about it, and by its light examined the hand.  The first joint of the second finger was gone.  From the appearance of the stump which had been cauterized and was tied tightly with a piece of flexible grass, I judged that it had been bitten off.

“‘What did this?’ I asked.

“‘Monkey,’ he answered, ’poisonous monkey.  Cut off the finger, O Dogeetah, or tomorrow I die.’

“’Why do you not tell your own doctors to cut off the finger, you who are Kalubi, Chief of the Pongo?’

“‘No, no,’ he replied, shaking his head.  ’They cannot do it.  It is not lawful.  And I, I cannot do it, for if the flesh is black the hand must come off too, and if the flesh is black at the wrist, then the arm must be cut off.’

“I sat down on my camp stool and reflected.  Really I was waiting for the sun to rise, since it was useless to attempt an operation in that light.  The man, Kalubi, thought that I had refused his petition and became terribly agitated.

“‘Be merciful, White Lord,’ he prayed, ’do not let me die.  I am afraid to die.  Life is bad, but death is worse.  O!  If you refuse me, I will kill myself here before you and then my ghost will haunt you till you die also of fear and come to join me.  What fee do you ask?  Gold or ivory or slaves?  Say and I will give it.’

“‘Be silent,’ I said, for I saw that if he went on thus he would throw himself into a fever, which might cause the operation to prove fatal.  For the same reason I did not question him about many things I should have liked to learn.  I lit my fire and boiled the instruments—­he thought I was making magic.  By the time that everything was ready the sun was up.

“‘Now,’ I said, ‘let me see how brave you are.’