r than himself, a big man over six
feet two high, I should say, and broad in proportion. He wore a long,
white cloak reaching from his shoulders almost to the ground. On his
head was a tight-fitting cap with lappets, also white. In his ears were
rings of copper or gold, and on his wrists bracelets of the same metal.
His skin was intensely black, but the features were not at all negroid.
They were prominent and finely-cut, the nose being sharp and the lips
quite thin; indeed of an Arab type. His left hand was bandaged, and on
his face was an expression of great anxiety. Lastly, he appeared to be
about fifty years of age. So still did he stand that I began to wonder
whether he were one of those ghosts which the Mazitu swore the Pongo
wizards send out to haunt their country.

"For a long while we stared at each other, for I was determined that I
would not speak first or show any concern. At last he spoke in a low,
deep voice and in Mazitu, or a language so similar that I found it easy
to understand.

"'Is not your name Dogeetah, O White Lord, and are you not a master of
medicine?'

"'Yes,' I answered, 'but who are you who dare to wake me from my sleep?'

"'Lord, I am the Kalubi, the Chief of the Pongo, a great man in my own
land yonder.'

"'Then why do you come here alone at night, Kalubi, Chief of the Pongo?'

"'Why do _you_ come here alone, White Lord?' he answered evasively.

"'What do you want, anyway?' I asked.

"'O! Dogeetah, I have been hurt, I want you to cure me,' and he looked
at his bandaged hand.

"'Lay down that spear and open your robe that I may see you have no
knife.'

"He obeyed, throwing the spear to some distance.

"'Now unwrap the hand.'

"He did so. I lit a match, the sight of which seemed to frighten him
greatly, although he asked no questions about it, and by its light
examined the hand. The first joint of the second finger was gone. From
the appearance of the stump which had been cauterized and was tied
tightly with a piece of flexible grass, I judged that it had been bitten
off.

"'What did this?' I asked.

"'Monkey,' he answered, 'poisonous monkey. Cut off the finger, O
Dogeetah, or tomorrow I die.'

"'Why do you not tell your own doctors to cut off the finger, you who
are Kalubi, Chief of the Pongo?'

"'No, no,' he replied, shaking his head. 'They cannot do it. It is not
lawful. And I, I cannot do it, for if the flesh is black the hand must
come off too, and if the flesh is