'No; but I am dying to know, for I never before heard that any of our blacks made any attempt at shoeing themselves. Could they walk far in a thing of that kind?'
'Far enough for their purposes, I dare say,' returned Ritchie grimly. 'That is a Kooditcha shoe, and a black fellow never puts a pair of them on except when he steals at night upon an enemy to kill him.'
'Oh, Ted, are you making that up to give me what you call a "curly half-hour"?'
'Oh, but you've not heard all yet. Do you see that reddish stuff holding the feathers together? Well, that is human blood.'
'How horrible! I wish I had not put it on,' said the girl, with a little shiver. 'It really has an assassin-like look, and such strange sombre tints.'
'You see, it would make no more track than a butterfly, and nothing to show it was on a foot. The blacks say they can track anything that walks or crawls, from a horse to a young snake; but not a ghost or an enemy in Kooditcha shoes.'
'Well, of all the myths I have gathered about the blacks, none are so dramatic as this relic. Thank you so much for getting it for me.'
'Well, I'm glad you like it. I wouldn't touch the thing with a pair of tongs, for my own part.'
'Human blood and a woman's hair! I wonder if anyone ever wore this to creep up to a tribal foe at midnight? But why did you say it was unlucky to put it on?'
'Well, the blacks say if you put one on and don't kill anybody, you'll live to wish someone had killed you.'