“Thus, Ibubesi. Whoever drinks this medicine becomes like one dead—none can tell the difference, no, not a doctor even—and remains so for a long while—perhaps one day, perhaps two, perhaps even three. Then life returns, and by degrees strength, but not memory; for whole moons the memory is gone, and he who has drunk remains like a child that has everything to learn.” “You lie, Mother. I never heard of such a medicine.” “You never heard of it because none can make it save me, and I had its secret from my grandmother; also few can afford to pay me for it. Still, it has been used, and were I not afraid I could give you cases. Stay, I will show you. Call that beast,” and she pointed to a dog that was asleep at the side of the hut. “Here is milk; I will show you.” Ishmael hesitated, for he was fond of this dog; then as he wished to test the stuff he called it. It came and sat down beside him, looking up in his face with faithful eyes. Then the old witch poured milk into a bowl, and in the milk mixed some white powder which she took out of a folded leaf, and offered it to the animal. The dog sniffed the milk, growled slightly, and refused it. “The evil beast does not like me; he bit me the other day,” said the old doctoress. “Do you give it to him, Ibubesi; he will trust you.” So Ishmael patted the dog on the head, then offered it the milk, which it lapped up to the last drop. “There, evil beast,” said the woman, with a chuckle, “you won’t bite me any more; you’ll forget all about me for a long time. Look at him, Ibubesi, look at him.” As she spoke, the poor dog’s coat began to stare; then it uttered a low howl, ran to Ishmael, tried to lick his hand, and rolled over, to all appearance quite dead. “You have killed my dog, which I love, you hag!” he said angrily. “Then why did you give medicine to what you love, Ibubesi? But have no fear, the evil beast has only taken a small dose; to-morrow morning it will awake, but it will not know you or anyone. Who is the medicine for, Ibubesi? The Lady Zoola? If so, it may not work on her, for she is mighty, and cannot be harmed.” “Fool! Do you think that I would play tricks with the Inkosazana?” “No, you want to marry her, don’t you? but it seems to me that she has no mind that way. Then it is for the man for whom she has a mind? Well, Ibubesi, you have promised the six cows, and you saved me once from being killed for witchcraft, so I will say something. Don’t give it to the chief Dario.” “Why not, you old fool; will it kill him after all?” “No, no; it will do what I said, no less and no more, in this quantity,” and she handed him another powder wrapped in dry leaves; “but I have had bad dreams about you, Ibubesi, and they were mixed up with the Inkosazana and this white man Dario. I dreamed they brought your death upon you—a dreadful death. Ibubesi, be wise, set Dario free, and change your mind as to marrying the Inkosazana, who is not for you.”