“Is that powder any good?” asked Dorcas rather aimlessly.
“Yes, it is very good, Lady; a medicine of power of which I alone have the secret, a magic medicine. See, I will show you. Except the immamba, the ring-snake that puffs out its head, this one is the most deadly in our country. Yet I do not fear it. Look!”
Leaning forward, he seized the puff-adder, and drawing it from beneath the fork, suffered it to strike him upon the breast, after which he deliberately killed it with a stone. Then he took some of the grey powder and rubbed it into the punctures; also put more of it into his mouth, which he swallowed.
“Oh!” exclaimed Dorcas, “he will die,” and some of the Christian Kaffirs echoed her remark.
But Menzi did not die at all. On the contrary, after shivering a few times he was quite himself, and, indeed, seemed rather brighter than before, like a jaded business man who has drunk a cocktail.
“No, Wife of Tombool,” he said, “I shall not die; every year I doctor myself with this magic medicine that is called Dawa, after which all the snakes in Sisa-Land—remember that they are many, Little Flower—may bite me if they like.”
“Is it your magic or is it the medicine that protects you?” asked Dorcas.
“Both, Lady. The medicine Dawa is of no use without the magic words, and the magic words are of no use without the medicine. Therefore alone in all the land I can cure snake bites, who have both medicine and magic. Look at your goat, Little Flower. Look at your goat!”
Tabitha looked, as did everyone else. The kid was rising to its feet. It rose, it baa’d and presently began to frisk about its mistress, like Menzi apparently rather brighter than before.