I shall burn you, and you will
see if this is so."

A hideous roar of laughter rose from the mob. The boys were led down
the hill towards the edge of a marsh. Behind them was a plantation of
banana trees. Some men who had carried bundles of firewood on their
heads threw the wood into a heap; others laid hold of each of the boys
and cut off their arms with hideous curved knives so that they should
not struggle in the fire.

Seruwanga, the bravest, refused to utter a cry as he was cut to
pieces, but Kakumba shouted to Mujasi, who was a Mohammedan, "You
believe in Allah the Merciful. Be merciful!" But Mujasi had no mercy.

We are told that the men who were watching held their breath with
awed amazement as they heard a boy's voice out of the flame and smoke
singing,

"Daily, daily sing to Jesus,
Sing, my soul, His praises due."

As the executioners came towards the youngest and feeblest, Lugalama,
he cried, "Oh, do not cut off my arms. I will not struggle, I will not
fight--only throw me into the fire."

But they did their ghastly work, and threw the mutilated boy on a
wooden framework above the slow fire where his cries went up, till at
last there was silence.

One other Christian stood by named Musali. Mujasi, with eyes bloodshot
and inflamed with cruelty, came towards him and cried:

"Ah, you are here. I will burn you too and your household. You are a
follower of Isa (Jesus)."

"Yes, I am," replied Musali, "and I am not ashamed of it."

It was a marvel of courage to say in the face of the executioner's
fire and knife what Peter dared not say when the servant-maid in
Jerusalem laughed at him. Perhaps the heroism of Musali awed even the
cruel-hearted Mujasi. In any case he left Musali alone.

For a little time M'wanga ceased to persecute the Christians. But the
wily Arabs whispered in his ear that the white men were still trying
to "eat up" his country. M'wanga was filled with mingled anger and
fear. Then his fury burst all bounds when Mujasi said to him: "There
is a great white man coming from the rising sun. Behind him will come
thousands of white soldiers."

"Send at once and kill him," cried the demented M'wanga.

A boy named Balikudembe, a Christian, heard the order and he could not
contain himself, but broke out, "Oh, King M'wanga, why are you going
to kill a white man? Your father did not do so."

But the soldiers went out, travelled east along the paths till they
met the great Bishop Hanningt