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"Old Gesafa back, he stared in horror at the old wo an ugly cut on her forehead

Then, as though a prescience had swept his being, he sprang to the bed

"My son! My boy! Where are you?" he shouted hoarsely

With a shaking hand he flung down the bedclothes of finely woven palm fiber

"My boy! My boy!"

The bed was empty His son had disappeared