he little
black monkey spoke.

"If Sokala took Wasonga, his daughter, into the forest near to The Tree
and slew her, his daughters would become sons and he would grow well."

And the other monkey nodded.

As they talked, Sokala recognized the truth of all that they had said.
He wondered that he had never thought of the matter before in this way.
All night long he lay thinking--thinking--long after the fires had died
down to a full red glow amidst white ashes, and the monkeys had
vanished. In the cold dawn his people found him sitting on the side of
the bed, and marvelled that he should have lived the night through.

"Send me Wasonga, my daughter," he said, and they brought a sleepy girl
of fourteen, tall, straight, and wholly reluctant. "We go a journey,"
said Sokala, and took from beneath his bed his wicker shield and his
sharp-edged throwing-spear.

"Sokala hunts," said the people of the village significantly, and they
knew that the end was very near, for he had been a great hunter, and men
turn in death to the familiar pursuits of life.

Three miles on the forest road to the Isisi city, Sokala bade his
daughter sit on the ground.

Bones had met and was in earnest conversation with the Chief of the
Ochori, the _Wiggle_ being tied up at a wooding, when he heard a scream,
and saw a girl racing through the wood towards him.

Behind her, with the foolish stare on his face which comes to men in the
last stages of sleeping sickness, his spear balanced, came Sokala.

The girl tumbled in a wailing, choking heap at Bones's feet, and her
pursuer checked at the sight of the white man.

"I see you, Sokala,"[2] said Bones gently.

[Footnote 2: The native equivalent for "Good morning."]

"Lord," said the old man, blinking at the officer of the Houssas, "you
shall see a wonderful magic when I slay this woman, for my daughters
shall be sons, and I shall be a well man."

Bones took the spear from his unresisting hand.

"I will show you a greater magic, Sokala, for I will give you a little
white stone which will melt like salt in your mouth, and you shall
sleep."

The old man peered from Lieutenant Tibbetts to the King of the Ochori.
He watched Bones as he opened his medicine chest and shook out two
little white pellets from a bottle marked "Veronal," and accepted them
gratefully.

"God bless my life," cried Bones, "don't chew 'em, you dear old
silly--swallow 'em!"

"Lord," said Sokala soberly, "they have a beauti