Chap. VII. DEATH OF KING OLENDA. 131 



smell that came from his body was dreadful. He lay 

 beside my bed ; for there was no hut but my own in 

 which I could put him. Igala, Quengueza's slave, 

 was in almost as bad a state. 



No one can imag'ine the anxiety I felt when, one 

 morning, Olenda complained to me of burning heat 

 and thirst. The fever increased in the course of the 

 next two days, and with it weakness and drowsiness, 

 but without any external appearance of small-pox. 

 When I sat by his bedside, the old man, seeing my 

 sorrowful countenance, would say, " Do not grieve, 

 Chaillie ; it is not your fault ; you have not caused 

 my illness, I know it." On the third night a sudden 

 cry of anguish from house to house in the village, 

 the meaning of which I knew too well, told me that 

 my only remaining friend was no more. He died, I 

 was told, without suffering ; going off, as it seemed, 

 in a quiet sleep. Shortly before his death he had 

 enjoined upon his people that they should take care 

 that no harm came to me. 



I was afraid that Olenda's subjects would not be so 

 tolerant as he himself was, and would accuse me of 

 having caused his death. I had taken a photo- 

 graphic likeness of him a few days before his ill- 

 ness, to the great wonderment and fear of the few 

 people who were well enough to watch the process. 

 I wished now that I had not done it, for I thought 

 it would be sure to create suspicions of my having 

 practised magical arts to cause his death. Happily, 

 matters took another turn. His relatives had been 

 so touched by my evident sorrow at the old man's 

 illness and death that they came to me afterwards, 



K 2 



