“However, they began by preparing their repast.  They went to a well close by, ate and drank and took no further notice of me except to laugh at me and describe the various treats they held in store for me....  Another night passed.  The torture was postponed until the morning, a time that suited them better.  At break of day they crowded round me, uttering yells and shouts with which were mingled the shrill cries of the women.

“When my shadow covered a line which they had marked on the sand the night before, they ceased their din, and one of them, who was to perform the surgical operations prescribed for me, stepped forward and ordered me to put out my tongue.  I did so.  He took hold of it with a corner of his burnous and, with his other hand, drew his dagger from its sheath.

“I shall never forget the ferocity, coupled with ingenuous delight, of his expression, which was like that of a mischievous boy amusing himself by breaking a bird’s wings and legs.  Nor shall I ever forget the man’s stupefaction when he saw that his dagger no longer consisted of anything but the pommel and a harmless and ridiculously small stump of the blade, just long enough to keep it in its sheath.  His fury was revealed by a splutter of curses and he at once rushed at one of his friends and snatched his dagger from him.

“The same stupefaction followed:  this dagger was also broken off at the hilt.  The next thing was a general tumult, in which one and all brandished their knives.  But all of them uttered howls of rage.

“There were forty-five men there; and their forty-five knives were smashed....  The chief flew at me as if holding me responsible for this incomprehensible phenomenon.  He was a tall, lean old man, slightly hunchbacked, blind of one eye, hideous to look upon.  He aimed a huge pistol point blank at my head and he struck me as so ugly that I burst out laughing in his face.  He pulled the trigger.  The pistol missed fire.  He pulled it again.  The pistol again missed fire....

“All of them at once began to dance around the stake to which I was fastened.  Gesticulating wildly, hustling one another and roaring like thunder, they levelled their various firearms at me:  muskets, pistols, carbines, old Spanish blunderbusses.  The hammers clicked.  But the muskets, pistols, carbines, and blunderbusses did not go off!

“It was a regular miracle.  You should have seen their faces.  I never laughed so much in my life; and this completed their bewilderment.

“Some ran to the tents for more powder.  Others hurriedly reloaded their arms, only to meet with fresh failure, while I did nothing but laugh and laugh!  The thing could not go on indefinitely.  There were plenty of other means of doing away with me.  They had their hands to strangle me with, the butt ends of their muskets to smash my head with, pebbles to stone me with.  And there were over forty of them!