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XVII.--WATHO'S WOLF.

From that dreadful morning Nycteris had never got to be herself again.
The sudden light had been almost death to her; and now she lay in the
dark with the memory of a terrific sharpness--a something she dared
scarcely recall, lest the very thought of it should sting her beyond
endurance. But this was as nothing to the pain which the recollection of
the rudeness of the shining creature whom she had nursed through his
fear caused her; for the moment his suffering passed over to her, and he
was free, the first use he made of his returning strength had been to
scorn her! She wondered and wondered; it was all beyond her
comprehension.

Before long, Watho was plotting evil against her. The witch was like a
sick child weary of his toy: she would pull her to pieces, and see how
she liked it. She would set her in the sun, and see her die, like a
jelly-fish from the salt ocean cast out on a hot rock. It would be a
sight to soothe her wolf-pain. One day, therefore, a little before noon,
while Nycteris was in her deepest sleep, she had a darkened litter
brought to the door, and in that she made two of her men carry her to
the plain above. There they took her out, laid her on the grass, and
left her.

Watho watched it all from the top of her high tower, through her
telescope; and scarcely was Nycteris left, when she saw her sit up, and
the same moment cast herself down again with her face to the ground.

"She'll have a sun-stroke," said Watho, "and that'll be the end of her."

Presently, tormented by a fly, a huge-humped buffalo, with great shaggy
mane, came galloping along, straight for where she lay. At sight of the
thing on the grass he started, swerved yards aside, stopped dead, and
then came slowly up, looking malicious. Nycteris lay quite still, and
never even saw the animal.

"Now she'll be trodden to death!" said Watho.

When the buffalo reached her, he sniffed at her all over, and went away;
then came back and sniffed again; then all at once went off as if a
demon had him by the tail.

Next came a gnu, then a gaunt wild boar. But no creature hurt her, and
Watho was angry with the whole creation.

At length, in the shade of her hair, the blue eyes of Nycteris began to
come to themselves a little, and the first thing they saw was a comfort.
I have told already how she knew the night daisies, each a sharp-pointed
little cone with a red tip; and once she had parted the rays of one of
them