“Not just now. Wait till the col' fit has gone. And then when you are wake up I shall have some medicine ready for you, and then you shall have no more fever.”
My attack of ague lasted about half an hour, and left me with the usual splitting headache and aching bones. When I was able to turn myself, I saw that Niâbon was seated beside Tematau dressing his lacerated back with some preparation of crushed leaves. She heard me move, turned her head, and smiled, and said she would be with me in a few moments. Although my head was bursting with pain, I watched her with interest, noting the tenderness with which her smooth, brown fingers touched her companion's body. When she had finished she rose, carefully washed and dried her shapely hands, and came over to me.
“Give me thy hand,” she said in the native dialect, as she knelt beside my couch.
I gave her my left hand. She clasped it firmly but softly, and then the fingers of her right hand gently pressed down my eyelids.
“Sleep, sleep long.”
As I felt the gentle pressure of her hand down my face, my throbbing temples cooled, and in a minute, or even less, I sank into a dreamless and profound slumber.
When I awakened it was past nine o'clock, and I found that my own two native servants, who slept in the village, had prepared my breakfast, and were seated beside Tematau, talking to him.
“Where is Niâbon?” I asked.
They told me that she had gone away in search of some plant, or plants, with which to compound the medicine she was making for me. She returned early in the forenoon, carrying a small basket in which I saw a coil of the long creeping vine called 'At 'At by the natives, and which grows only on the sandiest and most barren soil.
“Have you been sleep well, Mr. Sherry?” she inquired.