must perish, had been chosen by the queen.

One of these victims, she who bore the title of second wife, was bent
on her hands and knees, to serve as a royal footstool, as she had done
in the king's lifetime. The third wife came to hold up the manikin,
while the fourth lay at its feet, in the guise of a cushion.

Before the manikin, at the end of the ditch, a post, painted red, rose
from the earth. To this post was fastened a white man, who was going
to be counted also among the victims of these bloody obsequies.

That white man was Dick Sand. His body, half naked, bore the marks of
the tortures he had already suffered by Negoro's orders. Tied to this
post, he waited for death like a man who has no hope except in another
life.

However, the moment had not yet arrived when the barricade would be
broken.

On a signal from the queen, the fourth wife, she who was placed at the
king's feet, was beheaded by Kazounde's executioner, and her blood
flowed into the ditch. It was the beginning of a frightful scene of
butchery. Fifty slaves fell under the executioner's knife. The bed of
the river ran waves of blood.

During half an hour the victims' cries mingled with the assistants'
vociferations, and one would seek in vain in that crowd for a
sentiment of repugnance or of pity.

At last Queen Moini made a gesture, and the barricade that held back
the upper waters gradually opened. By a refinement of cruelty, the
current was allowed to filter down the river, instead of being
precipitated by an instantaneous bursting open of the dam. Slow death
instead of quick death!

The water first drowned the carpet of slaves which covered the bottom
of the ditch. Horrible leaps were made by those living creatures,
who struggled against asphyxia. They saw Dick Sand, submerged to the
knees, make a last effort to break his bonds. But the water mounted.
The last heads disappeared under the torrent, that took its course
again, and nothing indicated that at the bottom of this river was
dug a tomb, where one hundred victims had just perished in honor of
Kazounde's king.

The pen would refuse to paint such pictures, if regard for the truth
did not impose the duty of describing them in their abominable
reality. Man is still there, in those sad countries. To be ignorant of
it is not allowable.

* * * * *

CHAPTER XIII.

THE INTERIOR OF A FACTORY.

Harris and Negoro had told a lie in saying that Mr