drew himself
up; he seemed to swell in size; his thin face grew set and fierce.

"Out of the path, White-man!" he said, "or by Chaka's head I will kill
you," and from somewhere he produced a long, thin-bladed knife of native
iron fixed on a buck's horn.

"Kill on, Wizard," shouted Thomas. "Kill if you can."

"Listen," said Dorcas. "If our daughter dies because of you, then I have
done with you. We part for ever. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand," he answered heavily. "So be it."

Tabitha behind them made some convulsive noise. Thomas turned and looked
at her; she was slowly sinking down upon her side. His face changed. All
the rage and obstinacy went out of it.

"My child! Oh, my child!" he cried, "I cannot bear this. Love is
stronger than all. When I come up for judgment, may it be remembered
that love is stronger than all!"

Then he stepped out of the gateway, and sat down upon a stone hiding his
eyes with his hand.

Menzi threw down the knife and leapt in, followed by his servant who
bore his medicines, and the woman Ivana. He did his office; he uttered
his spells and invocations, he rubbed _Dawa_ into the wound, and prising
open the child's clenched teeth, thrust more of it, a great deal more,
down her throat, while all three of them rubbed her cold limbs.

About half an hour afterwards he came out of the place followed by
Ivana, who carried Tabitha in her strong arms; Tabitha was very weak,
but smiling, and with the colour returning to her cheeks. Of Thomas he
took no notice, but to Dorcas he said:

"Lady, I give you back your daughter. She is saved. Let her drink milk
and sleep."

Then Thomas, whose judgment and charity were shaken for a while, spoke,
saying:

"As a man and a father I thank you, Witch-doctor, but know that as a
priest I swear that I will never have more to do with you, who, I am
sure, by your arts, can command these reptiles to work your will and
have planned all this to shame me. No, not even if you lay dying would I
come to visit you."

Thus stormed Thomas in his wrath and humiliation, believing that he had
been the victim of a plot and not knowing that he would live bitterly to
regret his words.

"I see that you hate me, Teacher," said Menzi, "and though here I do not
find the gentleness you preach, I do not wonder; it is quite
natural. Were I you I should do the same. But you are Little Flower's
father--strange that she should have grown from such a seed--and thoug