Niger

Q QYet, saved though he was from starvation or
^violent death in the flooded Jallonkadoo, the
fever woke again in him, this time to alarming
temperatures. Karfa had provided him with a hut
for himself, a mat to sleep on, and all necessary
furniture known to Kamalia. Twice a day he sent
slaves with food and water. But he knew even less
of treating a fever than did Mungo, that graduate
of contemporary European science, whose know¬
ledge was negligible. Weak and delirious though
he frequently found himself, Mungo took pains to
conceal the fact as much as possible. Karfa was
kind—yes. But should he find he had a dying man
in his hands, one who would never survive to repay
him in the Gambia, would he not more than likely
turn him adrift ?
He assumed the appearance of a visitor of normal
interests and in the enjoyment of normal health.
Probably he looked like a partially revivified corpse,
and did Karfa an injustice, the slaver staring at him
in polite surprise as he staggered out on formal
visits by the side of that individual. Down poured
the rains. Through them, staring, bearded, yellow¬
faced and haggard, Mungo staggered on rounds of
visits to Karfa’s friends. He was twenty-five years
of age, but he looked nearly fifty. At last, on one of
those jaunts, seized by a fit of faintness, he fell
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