‘Some,’ said Yacka. ‘Wait and see.’
There were many trees near the camp, and they had big white branches a good height from the ground. Ten of the Curracoos were brought forward and thrown down under the trees. They were then raised feet first, and bound with their heads downwards round the trunks of the trees. Others were drawn up, feet foremost, over the branches, and left hanging with their heads touching the feet of the others.
Edgar protested to Yacka, but he took no notice. The black was looking at the fearful scene with savage delight. There was no mercy to be got out of Yacka, so Edgar did not speak to him again.
Other blacks were brought to these trees, cast down on their faces, and spears were driven through their backs, pinning them to the ground in such a manner that they could not get free. Their cries were fearful, and made the place seem like a hell upon earth. Some of the cruelties were too fearful to relate, and yet Yacka watched it all with fiendish glee. When the last prisoner had been tortured and left to die a lingering death, Yacka was satisfied.
‘We cannot trust you after what we have seen,’ said Edgar. ‘We shall go back. Guide us to Alice Springs; if not, we must risk it, and go alone.’
Yacka was dumfounded. He could not understand the reason of their distrust in him. He had acted according to the customs of his tribe, and knew, had the Curracoo won, the Enooma would have been treated in a similar way. It was the fortune of war. The Enooma had gained the victory; why should the white men mistrust him because the tribe had taken their just revenge?
‘Yacka is your friend,’ said the black. ‘You have come to no harm. We make war in our own way. You kill many men with big guns. I have seen them fired. They kill many at one shot. It is more terrible than our wars.’
‘We do not torture prisoners,’ said Edgar. ‘You are no better than these savages.’
‘I am the son of Enooma,’ said Yacka; ‘therefore I am the head of them. The head guides the body. I am the chief, the king, and I am above them all.’
‘You are as cruel as they are,’ said Edgar. ‘If you are the King of the Enooma, why did you not kill these men at once, not torture them?’