But none were there. He scrambled to his feet and looked round. The temple had no windows, but the solid walls of adobe did not meet the roof, and the level sun-rays of evening poured through the gap. There was nothing to interrupt the view, save a besom and a basket. But no snake could he see.

A movement above caught his eye. He looked up.

There are men who would have lost their wits in terror at that sight. The snakes were there, hundreds of them, perched upon the thickness of the wall--the ridge of their bodies gleaming in the red light of sunset, their long necks hanging down, waving and twining. Every head was turned towards him, the gla.s.s-bright eyes fixed on his, and the tongues slithering with eagerness. Nightmare was never so horrible.

For an instant Boville stood frozen, with dropped jaw and starting eyes, the icy sweat streaming from every pore; then, howling in no human voice, he burst through the doorway, through the guard, and fell in the midst of a party advancing.

All the Europeans in Whydah were there, with the Viceroy himself, and the head fetich man. The horrid absurdity of their equipment I have no room to describe. The white men had been pleading, even threatening, and the Viceroy supported them. When Boville dropped at their feet the last word had been spoken. His punishment should be that decreed against the man who kills a snake by evil chance--no worse.

'What is that?' Boville panted, when the agent who held him in his arms had explained.

'Never mind--we'll do our best! And it is to be at once, thank G.o.d! Night will soon be here!'

'Don't go--not all of you! Don't leave me with these devils!'

'We must, poor boy--to arrange. But we shall return.'

Boville remained among a group of fetich men, who sang and capered round, making gruesome pantomime of tortures. Meanwhile, others were busy at a shed with spades and bundles of reed. Dusk was settling down when they had finished. The head priests returning took their stations, surrounded by men with torches still unlit. All the population was gathered round the holy area.

Mr. Blank came back with others. 'Listen,' he said. 'They are going to put you--unbound--in a hole, cover you with reeds, and set them alight. You must spring up and run to the nearest water, all these brutes after you.

But I have arranged with many of them, and they will intercept the others.

Now mark, for your life may depend on it! The law is that one who kills a snake shall be cut and hacked till he reaches water! They expect you to make for the river, but there is a pond on the very edge of the fetich wood yonder! See? You make for that! You can't miss it if you go straight between the torches and the temple. You understand? Now summon your courage, man, and run for your life.'

He wrung Boville's hand. The executioners seized their victim and hurried him to the shed, amidst a furious tumult--roaring, singing, beating of drums, and blaring of cow-horns--thrust him into the hole, and heaped combustibles over him. The instant he was free Boville sprang up, but the reeds flared as quick as gunpowder. All ablaze he ran--the savage crew pursuing. But they mostly expected him on the river side. With but little hurt, save burns, he reached the pool and leapt in.

It is satisfactory to add that Boville did not suffer in health or fortune by this dread experience. He became the richest trader in Whydah, a special favourite with the natives. But he collected no more orchids.

THE END