Chaillu heard one day by accident that a man had been apprehended on a charge of causing the death of one of the chief men of the village, and went to Dayoko, the king, and asked about it. He said yes, the man was to be killed; that he was a notorious wizard, and had done much harm.
Chaillu begged to see this terrible being, and was taken to a rough hut, within which sat an old, old man, with wool white as snow, wrinkled face, bowed form, and shrunken limbs. His hands were tied behind him, and his feet were placed in a rude kind of stocks. This was the great wizard. Several lazy negroes stood guard over him, and from time to time insulted him with opprobrious epithets and blows, to which the poor old wretch submitted in silence. He was evidently in his dotage.
When asked if he had no friends, no relatives, no son or daughter or wife to take care of him, he said sadly, “No one.”
Now here was the secret of this persecution. They were tired of taking care of the helpless old man, who had lived too long, and a charge of witchcraft by the greegree man was a convenient pretext for putting him out of the way.
The Wizard in the Stocks.
Chaillu went, however, to Dayoko, and argued the case with him, and tried to explain the absurdity of charging a harmless old man with supernatural powers; told him that God did not permit witches to exist, and dually made an offer to buy the old wretch, offering to give some pounds of tobacco, one or two coats, and some looking-glasses for him, goods which would have bought an able-bodied slave.
Dayoko replied that for his part he would be glad to save him, but that the people must decide; that they were much excited against him, but that he would, to please Chaillu, try to save his life.
During the night following our travellers heard singing all over the town all night, and a great uproar. Evidently they were preparing themselves for the murder. Even these savages cannot kill in cold blood, but work themselves into a frenzy of excitement first, and then rush off to do the bloody deed.
Early in the morning the people gathered together with the fetish man, the rascal who was at the bottom of the murder, in their midst. His bloodshot eyes glared in savage excitement as he went round from man to man getting the votes to decide whether the old man should die.