“In the centre of the cave, and with either end secured to the floor by strong stakes, stood a huge double-springed lion trap edged with sharp and grinning teeth. It was set, and beyond the trap, indeed almost over it, a terrible struggle was in progress. A naked or almost naked white man, with a great beard hanging down over his breast, in spite of his furious struggles, was being slowly forced and dragged towards the trap by six or eight women. Only one man was present, a fat, cruel-looking man with small eyes and a hanging lip. It was the chief Wambe, and he stood by the trap ready to force the victim down upon it so soon as the women had dragged him into the necessary position.
“At this instant they caught sight of us, and there came a moment’s pause, and then, before I knew what she was going to do, Maiwa lifted the assegai she still held, and whirled it at Wambe’s head. I saw the flash of light speed towards him, and so did he, for he stepped backward to avoid it—stepped backward right into the trap. He yelled with pain as the iron teeth of the ‘Thing that bites’ sprang up with a rattling sound like living fangs and fastened into him—such a yell I have not often heard. Now at last he tasted of the torture which he had inflicted upon so many, and though I trust I am a Christian, I cannot say that I felt sorry for him.
“The assegai sped on and struck one of the women who had hold of the unfortunate Every, piercing through her arm. This made her leave go, an example that the other women quickly followed, so that Every fell to the ground, where he lay gasping.
“‘Kill the witches,’ roared Nala, in a voice of thunder, pointing to the group of women.
“‘Nay,’ gasped Every, ‘spare them. He made them do it,’ and he pointed to the human fiend in the trap. Then Maiwa waved her hand to us to fall back, for the moment of her vengeance was come. We did so, and she strode up to her lord, and flinging the white robe from her stood before him, her fierce beautiful face fixed like stone.
“‘Who am I?’ she cried in so terrible a voice that he ceased his yells. ‘Am I that woman who was given to thee for wife, and whose child thou slewest? Or am I an avenging spirit come to see thee die?
“‘What is this?’ she went on, drawing the withered baby-hand from the pouch at her side.
“‘Is it the hand of a babe? and how came that hand to be thus alone? What cut it off from the babe? and where is the babe? Is it a hand? or is it the vision of a hand that shall presently tear thy throat?
“‘Where are thy soldiers, Wambe? Do they sleep and eat and go forth to do thy bidding? or are they perchance dead and scattered like the winter leaves?’
“He groaned and rolled his eyes while the fierce-faced woman went on.