's brain, dominating
him with hypnotic suggestion to action. An urge to scream and to yell, to
dance and to leap, plucked at his limbs. Resurgent desires from he knew
not what subconscious catacombs, wriggled and struggled furiously within
him. The great moon scattered blue stars upon the spears as if upon the
green scales of some leviathan squirming in delirious torment.

Control the twitching of his muscles to that rhythm Birnier could not. He
had to fight to resist the waves of hysteria permeating the air. He
glanced at Mungongo. The whites of his eyes were rolling. Birnier cursed
the insistency of the drums and the orgiastical grunts. Forcibly he kept
up a running fire of psychological explanations: "Annihilation of
inhibitions {~HORIZONTAL ELLIPSIS~} dissociation of personality {~HORIZONTAL ELLIPSIS~} triumph of the subconscious
animal," as a wizard muttering incantations against evil spirits. He felt
dizzy. "God, I'm drunk with rhythm!" he exclaimed.

The priests were entering the large gate of the outer enclosure. In the
village and on the opposite hill the people resembled a swarm of black
locusts. The drums ceased. Bakahenzie and Marufa and Yabolo ran straight
towards him screeching. This was the cue.

Birnier walked back slowly. In awful silence they began to push the idol.
The wood creaked protestingly. Slowly the mass slid on to Birnier's back.
He gripped it and began to walk to the entrance. As he passed Mungongo the
Sacred Fires shot up yellow tongues. A sound like a moan rose dripping
with screams and grew into a continuous thunder of noise. The drums
rippled a furious tattoo. The three wizards dashed before him, leaping
high in the air. Birnier shuffled a dozen yards to the left and turned. He
stopped.

Upon the ground, just within the outer gate in view of the multitude
beyond, green ivory in the moonlight, was the naked figure of a white man.
Above him pranced Bakahenzie in whose hand gleamed a knife.

The training of his life enabled Birnier to throw upon the screen of his
mind the essential points more rapidly than conscious thought. Bakahenzie,
as well as the others, was in an abnormal state of excitement. There was
no time to employ "magic" rockets or anything else. He swung the idol upon
one shoulder and ran forward. He saw the blue eyes move and the bracelet
wink in the moonlight as he stepped over the bound form. He bent,
balancing the image upon his shoulders, and seized zu Pfeiffer by the a