Towards the latter part of the afternoon he noticed that the people were withdrawing from him; they seemed to shun the spot where he stood, all except his faithful slave friend. He trembled as he observed these signs of popular resentment, for he fully recognized their meaning.
Towards sunset the witch-doctor increased his efforts to the admiration of the spectators. He leaped in the air, gyrated on his heels, flung his arms and legs about in amazing circles, crouched and jumped, undulated his body to simulate a python, and in a whirlwind of shaking skins, twirling arms and legs, and sounding bells he brought himself to a sudden halt in front of Bakula, and with raised finger accused him of bewitching his mother to death.
Poor Bakula! although he had fully expected this charge, he was dumbfounded now he stood accused before all the people. He essayed to speak, but no words issued from his parched, dry throat, and he would have fallen if Tumbu had not supported him in his strong arms.
Why had they accused him of killing his mother by witchcraft? Accused him of her death! It was ridiculous, cruel, wicked! Surely no Congo mother had ever before been loved by a son as she had been loved! The very teaching he had imbibed had taught him to honour, reverence and love his parents. If he had lied, robbed, lived a loose life and treated his mother with contemptuous indifference like other young men in the town, he would not have stood there charged with killing his mother by witchcraft.
The crowd surged around him. What ugly, sinister faces were pushed jeeringly into his! Sticks were raised and knives drawn to strike down the witch; but Satu pushed himself in front of the victim, and demanded that he should not be killed until the ordeal test had been given him.
“He will escape in the night to the white man’s station,” they shouted.
“No, he won’t,” said Old Plaited-Beard, “for I will bind him strongly and watch him through the night, if you will hand him over to me.”
This met with the instant approval of the crowd, and Bakula was handed over to the guardianship of his superstitious and merciless enemy.
Old Plaited-Beard, with the help of a few friends, took the accused youth to his hut, and with strong cords bound his hands, feet and legs. No tenderness was displayed in the tying; that the cords cut into the flesh was regarded by the tiers with utter unconcern.
To render escape doubly impossible the prisoner’s neck was securely fastened in a forked stick.