“What is the matter?” I asked.
“O Macumazana,” he answered, “that dog Masapo has bewitched my boy, and unless you can save him he dies.”
“Nonsense,” I said, “why do you utter wind? If the babe is sick, it is from some natural cause.”
“Wait till you see it,” he replied.
Well, I went into the big hut, and there found Nandie and some other women, also a native doctor or two. Nandie was seated on the floor looking like a stone image of grief, for she made no sound, only pointed with her finger to the infant that lay upon a mat in front of her.
A single glance showed me that it was dying of some disease of which I had no knowledge, for its dusky little body was covered with red blotches and its tiny face twisted all awry. I told the women to heat water, thinking that possibly this might be a case of convulsions, which a hot bath would mitigate; but before it was ready the poor babe uttered a thin wail and died.
Then, when she saw that her child was gone, Nandie spoke for the first time.
“The wizard has done his work well,” she said, and flung herself face downwards on the floor of the hut.
As I did not know what to answer, I went out, followed by Saduko.
“What has killed my son, Macumazahn?” he asked in a hollow voice, the tears running down his handsome face, for he had loved his firstborn.