This had happened a long time ago, but it always came back to her like the wave that rolls back upon the shore, and it filled the mind of the sick child with horror. All attempts to quiet her were unavailing. Nell’s eyes grew larger and larger. Her heart beat so hard that it seemed as if it would burst. Then she began to twist and throw herself around like a fish drawn out of the water, and that condition lasted till nearly morning. Not until daybreak did her strength give out and her little head sink back on the pillow.
“I’m weak, weak, weak!” she repeated. “Stasch, I seem to be falling down some place.” And then she closed her eyes.
At first Stasch was overcome, for he thought she was dead. But this was only the end of the first paroxysm of this terrible and treacherous African fever, two attacks of which are as much as a strong, robust person can stand—for nobody has ever survived a third attack. Travelers had often described the fever when at Mr. Rawlison’s house in Port Said, and even more frequently the Catholic missionaries whom Mr. Tarkowski entertained on their way back to Europe had told about it. It seems that a second attack comes on after a few days, and a third, which, if it does not appear within two weeks, is not fatal, for then it is considered to be the first attack of another case. Stasch knew that heavy doses of quinine alone could stop or alleviate the attacks, and he had not a particle of it left.
Seeing that Nell was still breathing, he became somewhat composed, and began to pray for her. In the meanwhile the sun appeared from behind the cliffs in the gorge, and it became bright daylight. The elephant was already demanding his breakfast, and from the direction of the stream the screams of the water-birds could be heard. As the boy wanted to shoot some birds to make a broth for Nell, he took the rifle and walked along the edge of the stream to a group of high shrubs, in which the birds generally perched for the night. But he was so exhausted from loss of sleep, and his mind was so preoccupied with the thought of the girl’s illness, that he did not see a swarm of birds, walking slowly in single file, that passed him on their way to drink. Another reason why he did not see them was that he was constantly praying. He thought of the deaths of Gebhr and Chamis and the Bedouins, and lifting his eyes toward heaven, he said in a voice drowned with emotion: “Dear Lord, I did this for Nell, for Nell; for otherwise it would have been impossible to have regained our freedom—but if I committed a sin, punish me, but restore her to health——”
On the way he met Kali, who had gone to see if the wicked Msimu had eaten the meat he had offered him the day before. The young negro, who loved the little “Bibi,” prayed for her, too, but in quite a different way. For he told the wicked Msimu that if “Bibi” recovered he would bring him a piece of meat every day, but if she died he would—although he felt frightened and knew he would perish—tear the wicked Msimu’s skin to shreds and cause him to remember him forever. But he took courage when he saw that the piece of meat he had placed there the day before had disappeared. It might have been devoured by a jackal, but then Msimu might have taken the form of a jackal.
Kali told Stasch of this favorable omen, but Stasch only gazed at him as if he did not understand, and went on his way. While vainly searching for birds in the shrubbery, he approached the stream. Its banks were thickly wooded with tall trees, from which hung, like stockings, nests of the Remizen—pretty little yellow birds with black wings—and also wasps’ nests, shaped like large roses, and resembling gray blotting-paper. At one point the stream formed a fairly broad, swampy plain, which was partly overgrown with papyrus. In this swampy stretch of land were many flocks of water-birds. There were storks, like the European ones, and others with large, thick, hooked beaks; velvety black birds with blood-red feet, flamingoes, ibises, and white spoon-bills with pink wings and spoon beaks, cranes with crowns on their heads, and a number of gulls, variegated or gray as mice, which, like tiny forest sprites, ran to and fro on their long, thin, straw-like legs.
Stasch shot two large, bright-colored ducks, and walking over dead white butterflies, which were strewn over the banks by the thousand, first making sure there were no crocodiles in the ford, he waded into the water and picked up the game. The shot had evidently frightened away the birds, for there remained only two marabous, that stood near the water at a short distance away. They resembled two old men, with bald heads bowed down on their shoulders. They did not move. The boy took another look at their ugly food bags, hanging down on their breasts, then finding that the wasps were surrounding him, he returned to the camp.
Nell was still asleep, so he gave the ducks to Mea and then stretched himself out on a felt rug and at once fell into a heavy sleep. He did not awaken until the afternoon, a little earlier than Nell. The girl felt somewhat stronger, and being slightly refreshed, she drank some good, strong broth, arose and left the tree to look at King and the sun. Only now, by daylight, could be seen the ravages made by the fever in one night. Nell’s skin was yellow and transparent, her lips were black, there were large circles under her eyes, and her little face looked much older. Notwithstanding that she assured Stasch she felt quite strong, and even though she had drunk a large cup of soup on awakening, she was hardly able to drag herself to the edge of the gorge. Stasch was terrified at the thought of the second attack. He had no medicine, nor anything else to help her.
Meanwhile, there were several heavy showers every day, and this greatly increased the humidity in the air.