"He says that you must come up and make your offering to the god."
"What offering?" I asked, thinking that perhaps it would be of a painful nature.
"The offering of the sacred fire that the Lord of Fire," and she pointed to Hans, "bears about with him."
I was puzzled for a moment till Hans remarked:
"I think she means the matches, Baas."
Then I understood, and bade him produce a new box of Best Wax Vestas and hold it out in his hand. Thus armed we advanced and, passing round the fire, bowed, as the Bible potentate whom the Prophet cured bargained he should be allowed to do in the House of Rimmon, to the beastly effigy of Heu–Heu. Then in obedience to the muttered directions of Dacha, Hans solemnly deposited the box of matches upon the stone table, after which we were allowed to retreat.
Anything more ridiculous than this scene it is impossible to imagine. I suppose that its intense absurdity was caused, or at any rate accentuated by its startling and indeed horrible contrasts. There was the towering and demoniacal idol; there were the rogue priests, their faces alight with a fierce fanaticism; there, looking only half human, were the long lines of savage Hairy Folk; there was the burning fire reflecting itself to the farthest recesses of the cavern and showing the forms of the scattered worshippers.
Finally there was myself, a bronzed and tattered individual, and the dirty, abject–looking Hans holding in his hand that absurd box of matches which finally he deposited in the exact middle of the stone table about six inches from the swollen body of the aboriginal whom he had shot in the river. In those vast surroundings this box looked so lonely and so small that the sight of it moved me to internal convulsions. Shaking with hysterical laughter I returned to my seat as quickly as I could, dragging Hans after me, for I saw that his case was the same, although fortunately it is not the custom of Hottentots to burst into open merriment.
"What will Heu–Heu do with the matches, Baas?" asked Hans. "Surely there must be plenty of fire where he is, Baas."
"Yes, lots," I replied with energy, "but perhaps of another sort."
Then I observed that Dacha was pointing to the right and that the eyes of all present were fixed in that direction.
"The sacrifice comes," murmured Dramana, and as she spoke a woman appeared, a tall woman covered with a white robe or veil, who was led forward by two of the Hairy People. She was brought to the front of the table on which lay the body and the matches, and there stood quite still.
"Who is this?" I asked.
"Last year's bride, with whom the priest has done and passes on into the keeping of the god," answered Dramana with a stony smile.
"Do you mean that they are going to kill the poor thing?" I said, horrified.
"The god is about to take her into his keeping," she replied enigmatically.
At this moment one of the savage attendants snatched away the veil which draped the victim, revealing a very beautiful woman clad in a white kirtle which was cut low upon her breast and reached to her knees. Tall and stately, she stood quite still before us, her black hair streaming down upon her shoulders. Then, as though at some signal, all the women in the audience stood up and screamed:
"Wed her to the god! Wed her to the god and let us drink of the cup that through her unites us to the god!"
Two of the Hairy Folk drew near to the girl, each of whom had something in his hand, though what it was at the moment I could not see, and stood still, as though waiting for a sign. Then followed a pause during which I glanced about me at the faces of the women, made hideous by the unholy passions that raged within them, who stood with outstretched arms pointing at the victim. They looked horrible, and I hated them, all except Dramana, who, I noted with relief, had not cried aloud and did not stretch out her hands like the rest.
What was I about to see? Some dreadful act of voodooism such as negroes practise in Haiti and on the West Coast? Perhaps. If so, I could not bear it. Whatever the risk might be I could not bear it; almost automatically my hand grasped the stock of my revolver.
Dacha seemed as though he were about to say something, a word of doom mayhap. I measured the distance between me and himself with my eyes, calculating where I should aim to put a bullet through his large head and give the god a sacrifice which it did not expect. Indeed, had he spoken such a word, without doubt I should have done it, for as you fellows know I am handy with a pistol, and probably, as a result, never have lived to tell you this story.
As this juncture, however, the victim waved her arms and said in a loud, clear voice:
"I claim the ancient right to make my prayer to the god before I am given to the god."
"Speak on," said Dacha, "and be swift."
She turned and curtseyed to the hideous idol, then wheeled about again and addressed it in form although really she was speaking to the audience.
"O Fiend Heu–Heu," she said in a voice filled with awful scorn and bitterness, "whom my people worship to their ruin, I who was stolen from my people come to thee because I would have none of yonder high– priest and therefore must pay the price in blood. So be it, but ere I come I have something to tell these priests who grow fat in wickedness. Hearken! A spirit is in me, giving me sight. I see this place a sea of water, I see flames bursting through the water, turning thy hideous effigy to dust and burning up thy evil servants, so that not one of them remains. The Prophecy! The Prophecy! Let all who hear me bethink them of the ancient prophecy, for at length its hour is fulfilled!"
Then she stared towards Hans and myself, waving her arms, and I thought was about to address us. If so, she changed her mind and did not.
So far the priests and the congregation had listened in the silence of amazement, or perhaps of fear. Now, however, a howl of furious execration broke from them, and when it died down I heard Dacha shouting:
"Let this blaspheming witch be slain. Let the sacrifice be accomplished!"
The two savages stepped towards her, and now I saw that what they held in their hands were coils of rope with which doubtless she was to be bound. If so, she was too swift for them, for with a great bound she sprang upon the table where lay the body of the Hairy woman and the box of matches. Next instant I saw a knife flashing in her hand; I suppose it had been concealed somewhere in her dress. She lifted it and plunged it to her heart, crying as she did so:
"My blood be on you, Priests of Heu–Heu!"
Then she fell down there upon the table and was still.
In the hush that followed I heard Hans say:
"That was a brave lady, Baas, and doubtless all she said will come true. May I shoot that priest, Baas, or will you?"
"No," I began, but before I could get out another word my voice was overwhelmed by a tumult of shouts,
"The god has been robbed of his sacrifice and is hungry. Let the strangers be offered to the god."
These and other like things said the shouts.
Dacha looked towards us, hesitating, and I saw that it was time to act. Rising, I called out:
"Know, O Dacha, that before one hand is laid upon us I will make you as my companion, Lord–of–the–Fire, made the dog without your doors."
Evidently Dacha believed me, for he grew quiet humble. "Have no fear, Lords," he said. "Are you not our honoured guests and the messengers of a Great One? Go in peace and safety."
Then at his command or sign the brightly burning fire was scattered, so that the cave grew almost dark, especially as some of the lights had gone out.
"Follow me swiftly—swiftly," said Dramana, and taking my hand she led me away through the gloom.
Presently we found ourselves in the passage, though for aught I know it was another passage; at any rate, it led to the hall where we had feasted. This was now empty, although in it lights still burned. Crossing it, Dramana conducted us back to the house, where a hasty examination shewed us that our rifles were just as we had left them; nothing had been touched. Here, seeing that we were quite alone, for all had gone to the sacrifice, I spoke to her.