Lastly, he appeared to be about fifty years of age.

So still did he stand that I began to wonder whether he were one of those ghosts which the Mazitu swore the Pongo wizards send out to haunt their country.
"For a long while we stared at each other, for I was determined that I would not speak first or show any concern.

At last he spoke in a low, deep voice and in Mazitu, or a language so similar that I found it easy to understand.
"'Is not your name Dogeetah, O White Lord, and are you not a master of medicine ?' "'Yes,' I answered, 'but who are you who dare to wake me from my sleep ?' "'Lord, I am the Kalubi, the Chief of the Pongo, a great man in my own land yonder.' "'Then why do you come here alone at night, Kalubi, Chief of the Pongo ?' "'Why do _you_ come here alone, White Lord ?' he answered evasively.
"'What do you want, anyway ?' I asked.
"'O! Dogeetah, I have been hurt, I want you to cure me,' and he looked at his bandaged hand.
"'Lay down that spear and open your robe that I may see you have no knife.' "He obeyed, throwing the spear to some distance.
"'Now unwrap the hand.' "He did so.

I lit a match, the sight of which seemed to frighten him greatly, although he asked no questions about it, and by its light examined the hand.

The first joint of the second finger was gone.