To this mirror I gave a hasty polish, then set it upright upon the
table.
Old Babemba came along rather suspiciously, his one eye rolling over
us and everything that belonged to us. When he was quite close it fell
upon the mirror. He stopped, he stared, he retreated, then drawn by
his overmastering curiosity, came on again and again stood still.
"What is the matter?" called his second in command from the ranks.
"The matter is," he answered, "that here is great magic. Here I see
myself walking towards myself. There can be no mistake, for one eye is
gone in my other self."
"Advance, O Babemba," cried the doctor who had tried to drink all the
coffee, "and see what happens. Keep your spear ready, and if your
witch-self attempts to harm you, kill it."
Thus encouraged, Babemba lifted his spear and dropped it again in a
great hurry.
"That won't do, fool of a doctor," he shouted back. "My other self
lifts a spear also, and what is more all of you who should be behind
are in front of me. The holy drink has made me drunk; I am bewitched.
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