g and whining in a covert and he himself had sat shaking upon
his horse. He glanced furtively towards the gallows, and foresaw the
vultures perched upon his shoulders, fluttering about his eyes. But the
man had grown during his years of probation. The fear of physical
suffering was not uppermost in his mind, nor even the fear that he would
walk unmanfully to the high gallows, but a greater dread that if he died
now, here, at Dongola, Ethne would never take back that fourth feather,
and his strong hope of the "afterwards" would never come to its
fulfilment. He was very glad of the collar about his neck and the
fetters on his legs. He summoned his wits together and standing there
alone, without a companion to share his miseries, laughed and scraped
and grimaced at his tormentors.

An old hag danced and gesticulated before him, singing the while a
monotonous song. The gestures were pantomimic and menaced him with
abominable mutilations; the words described in simple and unexpurgated
language the grievous death agonies which immediately awaited him, and
the eternity of torture in hell which he would subsequently suffer.
Feversham understood and inwardly shuddered, but he only imitated her
gestures and nodded and mowed at her as though she was singing to him of
Paradise. Others, taking their war-trumpets, placed the mouths against
the prisoner's ears and blew with all their might.

"Do you hear, Kaffir?" cried a child, dancing with delight before him.
"Do you hear our ombeyehs? Blow louder! Blow louder!"

But the prisoner only clapped his hands, and cried out that the music
was good.

Finally there came to the group a tall warrior with a long, heavy spear.
A cry was raised at his approach, and a space was cleared. He stood
before the captive and poised his spear, swinging it backward and
forward, to make his arm supple before he thrust, like a bowler before
he delivers a ball at a cricket match. Feversham glanced wildly about
him, and seeing no escape, suddenly flung out his breast to meet the
blow. But the spear never reached him. For as the warrior lunged from
the shoulder, one of the four guards jerked the neck chain violently
from behind, and the prisoner was flung, half throttled, upon his back.
Three times, and each time to a roar of delight, this pastime was
repeated, and then a soldier appeared in the gateway of Nejoumi's house.

"Bring him in!" he cried; and followed by the curses and threats of the
crowd, the