The unhappy Siswani had thus been exposed for fully five hours, when von Schalckenberg at length stood beside him, and his body was completely hidden beneath a swarming mass of ants, the collective movements of which suggested a horrible wave-like creeping movement to the surface of the body. Apart from this, however, an occasional writhing of the frightfully swollen form and limbs showed that life and feeling still remained. But it was, perhaps, the mouth of the sufferer that bore most eloquent testimony to the extremity of the tortured body's anguish: it had been forced wide open by the introduction of a thick gag of hard wood, and into this the strong teeth had bitten until they were ground to fragments, while the lips were drawn back in a fearful grin. Upon this awful object Lobelalatutu cast a single glance, and then made a dart at the nearest of the spears that had been flung away by the flying guard, with which he quickly cut the thongs that bound the victim, and those that secured the gag, removing the latter from the sufferer's mouth. Then, raising the quivering body in his arms, he bent down and murmured a few words in his friend's ear. There was no reply; and, looking closer, the chief saw enough to convince him that the unhappy Siswani's hearing was already completely destroyed. Lobelalatutu had been reared in a school in which stoical indifference to suffering, whether personal or in another, is esteemed a cardinal virtue; yet even he could not wholly conceal the emotion which possessed him as he turned to von Schalckenberg and drew the attention of the professor to the ghastly injuries already inflicted by the terrible ants. "Great Spirit," said he, "you are very powerful, I know, for I have seen you do many wonderful things. Can you give Siswani new eyes and ears, new flesh in place of that which has disappeared? Can you extract the poison from his body, and make him whole again, even as he was when the dawn came into this morning's sky?" "No," answered the professor, sorrowfully. "We can do many wonderful things, as you say, Lobelalatutu, but we cannot create a man anew. We can cure many diseases; we can heal many kinds of wounds; but our power as yet stops short of repairing such frightful injuries as those. The utmost that we can do is to ease Siswani of his pain so that he may die in peace." "You cannot save his life?" demanded the chief; and there was a note of keen anguish and fierce sorrow in his accents as he asked the question. "I do not say that," answered von Schalckenberg. "It may be possible. But blind, deaf, dumb, as he is, what will life be worth to him, even if I can preserve it?"