“Take it off! Take it off! Oh, I am devoured! Quick! I will tell!”
Seizing a pair of iron tongs, Shiminya compelled the now infuriated brute to loose its hold, and following it with a tremendous blow on the head, it retreated yelling to the further side of the hut.
“The names—quick—ere it seizes thee again,” urged the wizard.
“Pukele,” she howled, frantic with agony and terror.
“The son of thy father, who is servant to Jonemi?”
“The same. The other is Ntatu.”
The words seemed squeezed from the sufferer. Her thigh, horribly lacerated by the jaws of the savage beast, streaming with blood, was quivering in every nerve.
“Thy sister, formerly wife of Makani?”
“The same. Now, child of the Umlimo, suffer me to depart.”
“Thy thigh is not well enough, sister,” replied the wizard, in a soft purring voice, putting his head on one side, and surveying her through half closed eyes. “Tarry till evening, then shalt thou be taken hence. Au! It is not good to be seen quitting the abode of Shiminya. There is tagati in it.”