breaking
the magic circle, as he had said, had brought the terrible
Eyes-in-the-hands upon them; that the welfare of the tribe depended upon
her sacrifice to the angered Unmentionable One even as she had been
doomed; and threatening that they would take the insolent white man, whose
magic was as water, and sacrifice him as well, as was desired by the
spirit of Tarum.

The longer he spoke the more excited he grew. Motivated by the sudden
conviction that the sacrifice of Bakuma, whose action he had foretold so
successfully, and the slaughter of the white would really restore to him
his repute and remove at the same time the problem of controlling a
superior magician who threatened to become his rival, Bakahenzie began to
work himself up into the necessary state of prophetic hysteria. Cowering
against the camp-bed Bakuma whimpered with terror; Mungongo incoherently
begged Moonspirit to give up the girl.

Not a muscle moved upon Birnier's face; nor even did his eyes turn in the
direction of the menacing crowd who with uplifted spears joggled each
other around Bakahenzie. Birnier knew that it was a supreme test of nerve;
knew that any attempt to snatch a rifle or a movement of any sort, would
precipitate action on their side. He had no intention of surrendering the
girl to a hideous fate, and also he saw beyond the incident that if
Bakahenzie were to triumph over him now, not only would his prestige with
the natives be gone for ever, but that his fate would be surely sealed.
Slowly, exaggeratedly, as if he were alone, he killed a mosquito upon his
bare right breast and lighted his pipe anew.

Bakahenzie advanced a step followed by the warriors. His voice had reached
the falsetto timbre. Mungongo lost his head entirely and seizing Bakuma,
began to drag her out of the tent. Birnier turned his head leisurely
towards him. Said he very loudly:

"It is not seemly to rape a woman in my presence, O Mungongo. Let her be,
for I will buy thee one."

Mungongo ceased to pull at Bakuma's arms and stared as if paralysed.
Birnier saw the eyes switch in a terrified glance at the warriors behind
him and heard Bakahenzie's yell to kill.

For one moment he thought that indeed the end had come. Before he could
reach the rifle a dozen spears would be in his back. He sat motionless,
the _Anatomy of Melancholy_ still in his hand, and watched the gauge of
Mungongo's eyes. Bakahenzie's voice rose to a screech. Suddenly Birnier
wheeled round i