Page:Weird Tales Volume 6 Number 4 (1925-10).djvu/89
I'm a murderer and all because I wanted to play a nice game with Freddy in the carriage.
Yes, I'm listening to you, doctor. I'm paying attention. What, doctor? I told you in my fever that I let him fall, and you knew before that? You guessed it by my actions? But then why are you proud that I told you everything? Oh, I see. Yes, doctor, I'll rest until you come back with the medicine.
You back already? Listen, someone's knocking. There's my mamma coming. And—and doctor, am I feverish? Listen, I think I hear Freddy—Freddy! What's the matter? Oh, look, look, there's Freddy! Then he didn't die; he didn't catch it! And he knows me! Look, doctor—mamma, he knows me! Listen, he's making those cute funny noises. Goo, goo, Freddy! He knows me; he knows everything again! Maybe I'm dreaming. Are you sure he's all right? . . . How? . . . I did it when I bumped him back into his bed? I can't understand. What bone, doctor? Oh, never mind, I don't understand all those big doctor words anyhow and I don't care. Freddy's got his bright little spirit again and everything's all right.
I guess I'm some happy guy right now.
In WEIRD TALES Next Month
LUKUNDOO
By
EDWARD LUCAS WHITE
An eery tale of African witchcraft—a story of strange pigmy creatures that grew up out of a white man's flesh and jabbered and whistled. He shaved off their heads with a razor, but still they grew, and still they talked. So unreal was it all that even the explorers who actually saw it with their own eyes, there in the African jungle, doubted the evidence of their senses.
Read This Eldritch Tale in the November Issue
On Sale At All News Stands October First