THE MONKEYFOLK OF SOUTH AFRICA 75 



HOW I REARED A HUMANFOLK BABY 



I was taken captive by a farmer-man when I was quite 

 a little girl. My master lived away in the Back-veld of 

 Rhodesia. One of the servants had a dear little baby. I 

 was often allowed to take him into my arms and nurse him. 

 The baby's father was a good man, except when he drank 

 a kind of poison, of which he was very fond. It seemed to 

 change his nature entirely, because he became quarrelsome, 

 and used low, filthy language, and all that was bad in him 

 seemed to flare up. The stuff he drank was called alcohol. 

 One of the whitefolk, who kept a Kafir store a few miles from 

 our farm, sold him this poison. 



One day, when the man was drunk, he quarrelled with 

 his wife, and accused her of things she was quite innocent 

 of. Then he seemed to lose control of himself, and, picking 

 up a hatchet, he split the poor woman's skull, right before 

 my eyes. I leapt upon him and fastened my teeth in his 

 neck. It was lucky I did leap upon him just at that instant, 

 for his arm was uplifted to deal a death-blow to the poor 

 little infant, who was lying on his murdered mother's 

 breast. My master and the others came to my rescue, 

 and secured the maniac. He was taken to Salisbury arid, 

 I was told, he was hanged. 



Well, the question arose as to what should be done with 

 the baby. My master was a bachelor, living with his brother. 

 The other servants were men. My master had evidently 

 been giving the matter very serious thought, for, the morn- 

 ing after the murder, he brought the baby out and gave it 

 me to nurse, as he had often seen its poor mother do. He 

 watched for a time, and talked to me a lot in humanfolk 

 language. I didn't know just exactly all he said, but by a 

 kind of telepathy between his brain and mine, I knew all 

 the sense of what he was saying. He was telling me that 



