“Glad to see you, gentlemen, that I am,” he exclaimed. “To say the truth, I had begun to fear that you would never come at all, as I have had some doubts about the intentions of our friends here. They were very kind, howsomever, for they fed me well and tried their skill at doctoring my foot, but I cannot say that they have done it any good; so I hope, Mr Westerton, that you will again take me in hand.”
We were thankful to find that Tom was in such good spirits. Charley, on looking at his foot, said he hoped, as the swelling had greatly gone down, that in a few days it would be as strong as ever. As it was so late at night, we expected to go supperless to bed, but we had not been long in the hut when a bevy of damsels arrived carrying baskets on their heads, containing cooked provisions enough, including some of our venison, to feed a dozen people. We were not sorry to partake of them, as we had become very hungry; but as we had had but little rest the previous night, we begged our entertainers to leave us in quiet, which they did not appear disposed to do. At length Aboh and Shimbo making their appearance, at our request turned all our guests out and allowed us to sleep in quiet.
Next morning we were awakened by great shouting, and on inquiring the cause, ascertained that a famous doctor had come to cure the king, Quagomolo, of his disease, though what that was we could not ascertain. We went out to see this important personage, who presented a most fantastic appearance. His head was adorned with feathers, birds’ beaks, and claws of leopards, hyenas, and other savage brutes; half his body was painted red, the other half white, while his face was daubed with streaks of alternate black, white, and red. Round his neck he wore numerous chains and charms, which tinkled and rattled as he moved about.
After having paraded himself through the village to be admired by the inhabitants, he was introduced to the hut of the king, whom he had not yet seen. Finding no one to stop us, we shortly afterwards followed, when we saw the doctor seated on a low stool before a large earthenware pot, into which he was looking intently. This done, having seized a lighted torch smouldering by his side, he whirled it about his head till it burst into a flame. He then waved it over the pot, muttering some mysterious words. He continued this and similar performances for so long a time that we were getting weary of witnessing them, when suddenly a person rose from a couch at the further end of the room, whom we rightly supposed to be King Quagomolo.
“Sit down, your majesty, sit down,” exclaimed the doctor. “I’ll soon say what’s the matter with you.”
The king obeyed. Again the doctor waved his torch and gazed into the pot, and then declared that his majesty was bewitched.
“Who are the people who have bewitched me?” asked the king in a trembling voice.
“They are some men and women in your own kingdom, and not far off from this,” answered the doctor in a deep bass voice which could be heard outside the hut, where a number of persons were collected.
There was a general howl of alarm, for no one could tell who would be fixed on. The king, on hearing this, announced that the persons implicated must drink the poisoned water, usually given on such occasions. So we learned from Aboh, who had crept into the hut and squatted down beside us.
“We must try to defeat the old rascal,” whispered Charley. “Show us where the poison is to be concocted?”