“O God,” he prayed, “upon whose business I am here, grant, I beseech Thee, that by Thy Grace power may be given to me to work this miracle in the face of these people, to the end that I may win them to cease from their iniquities, to believe upon Thee, the only true God, and to save their souls alive. Amen.”
Having finished his prayer, he took the bottle and shook it; then he commanded Nodwengo to sit upon the ground and hold his father’s head upon his knee. Now, as all might see by many signs, the king was upon the verge of death, for his lips were purple, his breathing was rare and stertorous, and his heart stood well-nigh still.
“Open his mouth and hold down the tongue,” said Owen.
The prince obeyed, pressing down the tongue with a snuff spoon. Then placing the neck of the bottle as far into the throat as it would reach, Owen poured the fluid it contained into the body of the king, who made a convulsive movement and instantly seemed to die.
“He is dead,” said one; “away with the false prophet!”
“It may be so, or it may not be so,” answered Owen. “Wait for the half of an hour; then, if he shows no sign of life, do what you will with me.”
“It is well,” they said; “so be it.”
Slowly the minutes slipped by, while the king lay like a corpse before them, and outside of that silent ring the soldiers murmured as the wind. The sun was sinking fast, and Hokosa watched it, counting the seconds. At length he spoke:—
“The half of the hour that you demanded is dead, White Man, as dead as the king; and now the time has come for you to die also,” and he stretched out his hand to take him.
Owen looked at his watch and replied:—