And so the deadly game went on, till about a hundred bodies were stretched in rows behind us.  I have heard of the gladiatorial shows of the Caesars, and of the Spanish bull-fights, but I take the liberty of doubting if either of them could be half so horrible as this Kukuana witch-hunt.  Gladiatorial shows and Spanish bull-fights at any rate contributed to the public amusement, which certainly was not the case here.  The most confirmed sensation-monger would fight shy of sensation if he knew that it was well on the cards that he would, in his own proper person, be the subject of the next “event.”

Once we rose and tried to remonstrate, but were sternly repressed by Twala.

“Let the law take its course, white men.  These dogs are magicians and evil-doers; it is well that they should die,” was the only answer vouchsafed to us.

About half-past ten there was a pause.  The witch-finders gathered themselves together, apparently exhausted with their bloody work, and we thought that the performance was done with.  But it was not so, for presently, to our surprise, the ancient woman, Gagool, rose from her crouching position, and supporting herself with a stick, staggered off into the open space.  It was an extraordinary sight to see this frightful vulture-headed old creature, bent nearly double with extreme age, gather strength by degrees, until at last she rushed about almost as actively as her ill-omened pupils.  To and fro she ran, chanting to herself, till suddenly she made a dash at a tall man standing in front of one of the regiments, and touched him.  As she did this a sort of groan went up from the regiment which evidently he commanded.  But two of its officers seized him all the same, and brought him up for execution.  We learned afterwards that he was a man of great wealth and importance, being indeed a cousin of the king.

He was slain, and Twala counted one hundred and three.  Then Gagool again sprang to and fro, gradually drawing nearer and nearer to ourselves.

“Hang me if I don’t believe she is going to try her games on us,” ejaculated Good in horror.

“Nonsense!” said Sir Henry.

As for myself, when I saw that old fiend dancing nearer and nearer, my heart positively sank into my boots.  I glanced behind us at the long rows of corpses, and shivered.

Nearer and nearer waltzed Gagool, looking for all the world like an animated crooked stick or comma, her horrid eyes gleaming and glowing with a most unholy lustre.

Nearer she came, and yet nearer, every creature in that vast assemblage watching her movements with intense anxiety.  At last she stood still and pointed.

“Which is it to be?” asked Sir Henry to himself.

In a moment all doubts were at rest, for the old hag had rushed in and touched Umbopa, alias Ignosi, on the shoulder.

“I smell him out,” she shrieked.  “Kill him, kill him, he is full of evil; kill him, the stranger, before blood flows from him.  Slay him, O king.”