“Who are you?” he asked.
“I am named Mami,” she answered.
“Mami, Mami! I know the name, and I know the voice. Say, were you one of the wives of Ibubesi, she who spoke with me through the fence?” and he strove to raise himself on his arm to look at her, but fell back from weakness.
“Yes, Inkoos, I was one of his wives.”
“Was? Then where is Ibubesi now?”
“Dead, Inkoos. The fire has burned him up with his kraal Mafooti.”
“With the kraal Mafooti! Where, then, is the Inkosazana? Answer, woman, and be swift,” he cried in a hollow voice.
“Alas! Inkoos, alas! she is dead also, for she was in the kraal when the fire swept it, and was seen standing on the top of a hut where she had taken refuge, and after that she was seen no more.”
“Then let me die and go to her,” exclaimed Richard with a groan, as he fell back upon his bed, where he lay almost insensible for three more days.
Yet he did not die, for he was young and very strong, and Mami poured milk down his throat to keep the life in him. Indeed little by little something of his strength came back, so that at last he was able to think and talk with her again, and learned all the dreadful story.