I was alone, and no
sound broke the stillness of the night. The ears ached at the utter
silence, till the sudden wild cry of a hyena made me shudder as the
horrible thought rushed through my brain, that, should she be buried in
this lonely spot, the hyena would . . . disturb her rest.
The morning was not far distant; it was past four o'clock. I had passed
the night in replacing wet cloths upon her head and moistening her lips,
as she lay apparently lifeless on her litter. I could do nothing more;
in solitude and abject misery in that dark hour, in a country of savage
heathens, thousand of miles away from a Christian land, I beseeched an
aid above all human, trusting alone to Him.
The morning broke; my lamp had just burnt out, and, cramped with the
night's watching, I rose from my low seat, and seeing that she lay in
the same unaltered state, I went to the door of the hut to breathe one
gasp of the fresh morning air. I was watching the first red streak that
heralded the rising sun, when I was startled by the words, "Thank God,"
faintly uttered behind me. Suddenly she had awoke from her torpor, and
with a heart overflowing I went to her bedside. Her eyes were full of
madness! She spoke; but the brain was gone!
I will not inflict a description of the terrible trial of seven days of
brain fever, with its attendant horrors. The rain poured in torrents,
and day after day we were forced to travel, for want of provisions, not
being able to remain in one position. Every now and then we shot a few
guinea-fowl, but rarely; there was no game, although the country was
most favourable. In the forests we procured wild honey, but the deserted
villages contained no supplies, as we were on the frontier of Uganda,
and M'tese's people had plundered the district. For seven nights I had
not slept, and although as weak as a reed, I had marched by the side of
her litter. Nature could resist no longer. We reached a village one
evening; she had been in violent convulsions successively - it was all
but over. I laid her down on her litter within a hut; covered her with a
Scotch plaid; and I fell upon my mat insensible, worn out with sorrow
and fatigue. My men put a new handle to the pickaxe that evening, and
sought for a dry spot to dig her grave!
CHAPTER XIL
RECOVERED.
The sun had risen when I woke. I had slept, and, horrified as the idea
flashed upon me that she must be dead, and that I had not been with her,
I started up. She lay upon her bed, pale as marble, and with that calm
serenity that the features assume when the cares of life no longer act
upon the mind, and the body rests in death.
