Between Snow and Fire — page 200: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

) ol eee ee ey | ¢ f A i re. i N SNOW AND FIRE, _ “Hamba-ké,umhingu |”* said several of the warriors guard- ing Eustace, motioning him to proceed. “We are going to show youasight. Quick, or we shall be late! ” By no means free from apprehension on his own account, Eustace obeyed. When they arrived among the eager and excited crowd, the entertainment had already begun. All made way for the white prisoner and his guards, and there was a fiendish leer on many a dark face which needed not amuttered remark or two to explain. ‘The horrible scene he was about to witness was extremely likely to be his own fate. The doomed man lay spread eagled on his back ; his hands and feet, stretched to their utmost tension, were fastened to stout pegs driven intothe ground. ‘Two of the Kafirs were busily anointing his naked body with a sticky compound, which was, in fact, a mixture of honey and native beer. This they smeared over him with bits of rag: ears, eyes, nose, coming in for a plentiful share. Already his flesh seemed alive with moving objects, and then the cause became apparent. The wretched man wastied down right across a huge ant’s nest, which had been broken in order to receive his body. Already the infuriated insects were mak- ink their bites felt. Me was to be devoured alive by black ants. “Confess, Vudana,” cried Ngcenika, “Confess thy witch- craft and how thy ‘charms’ were obtained. The black ants bite hard. Ha!” : “Confess ? Ha-ha!” jeered the sufferer, his eyes blaz- ing. ‘‘ Not to thee, vulture. Not to thee, jackal. Not to thee, spawn of a Fingo dog. Ha! ‘That is the witch-doc- tress of the Amagcaléka! Such a thing as that! What magiccan she make? A cheat—a liar! I can die—I can die as I have lived—a man, a warrior.” “Hau! Awizard! Atraitor!’” vociferated the crowd. “Confess thy witchcraft, lest we put thee to the flaming tor- ment. The fire bites deeperthan the black ants. Aau/”’ “T laugh at the fire,” roared the victim. “I laugh at all that you can do. The fire is but a pleasant warmth. The bite of the ants is but the softest tickling. Thou dog, Mfulini, were I free, I would whip thee round the kraal.” “Ts thy bed acomfortable one, Vudana?” replied the bar- barian thus apostrophized, with a sneer. And picking up a handful of the venomous insects he scattered them upon the tortured man’s face with a brutal laugh. For all his defiant fortitude the latter was undergoing * ** Go on, white man.” (E(e) Comichboo