I could sleep little that night, because
of the sorrow at my heart, but sat awake looking, in the brightness of
the moon, upon the grey face of the stone Witch, and on the depths of
the forest that grew about her knees, wondering the while if the bones
of Umslopogaas lay broken in that forest. Now as I journeyed, many
tales had been told to me of this Ghost Mountain, which all swore was
haunted, so said some, by men in the shape of wolves; and so said
some, by the Esemkofu--that is, by men who have died and who have been
brought back again by magic. They have no tongues, the Esemkofu, for
had they tongues they would cry aloud to mortals the awful secrets of
the dead, therefore, they can but utter a wailing like that of a babe.
Surely one may hear them in the forests at night as they wail "Ai!--
ah! Ai--ah!" among the silent trees!
You laugh, my father, but I did not laugh as I thought of these tales;
for, if men have spirits, where do the spirits go when the body is
dead? They must go somewhere, and would it be strange that they should
return to look upon the lands where they were born? Yet I never
thought much of such matters, though I am a doctor, and know something
of the ways of the Amatongo, the people of the ghosts. To speak truth,
my father, I have had so much to do with the loosing of the spirits of
men that I never troubled myself overmuch with them after they were
loosed; there will be time to do this when I myself am of their
number.
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