fascinated me.

'I suppose you know what will happen to you,' he said, flicking the
ashes from his cigarette. 'To-morrow at Inanda's Kraal, when the vow
is over, they will give you a taste of Kaffir habits. Not death, my
friend--that would be simple enough--but a slow death with every
refinement of horror. You have broken into their sacred places, and
you will be sacrificed to Laputa's god. I have seen native torture
before, and his own mother would run away shrieking from a man who had
endured it.'

I said nothing, but the thought made my flesh creep.

'Well,' he went on, 'you're in an awkward plight, but I think I can
help you. What if I can save your life, Mr Storekeeper? You are
trussed up like a fowl, and can do nothing. I am the only man alive
who can help you. I am willing to do it, too--on my own terms.'

I did not wait to hear those terms, for I had a shrewd guess what they
would be. My hatred of Henriques rose and choked me. I saw murder and
trickery in his mean eyes and cruel mouth. I could not, to be saved
from the uttermost horror, have made myself his ally.

'Now listen, Mr Portugoose,' I cried. 'You tell me you are a spy.
What if I shout that through the camp? There will be short shrift for
you if Laputa hears it.'

He laughed loudly. 'You are a bigger fool than I took you for. Who
would believe you, my friend. Not Laputa. Not any man in this army.
It would only mean tighter bonds for these long legs of yours.'

By this time I had given up all thought of diplomacy. 'Very well, you
yellow-faced devil, you will hear my answer. I would not take my
freedom from you, though I were to be boiled alive. I know you for a
traitor to the white man's cause, a dirty I.D.B. swindler, whose name
is a byword among honest men. By your own confession you are a traitor
to this idiot rising. You murdered the Dutchmen and God knows how many
more, and you would fain have murdered me. I pray to Heaven that the
men whose cause you have betrayed and the men whose cause you would
betray may join to stamp the life out of you and send your soul to
hell. I know the game you would have me join in, and I fling your offer
in your face. But I tell you one thing--you are damned yourself. The
white men are out, and you will never get over the Lebombo. From black
or white you will get justice before many hours, and your carcass will
be left to rot in the bush. Get out of my sight, you swine.'

In that moment I