A hollow murmur ran over the crowd like a wave as the gaol doors swung open and the prisoners appeared, pinioned. Their demeanour was varied. That of Ukozi showed, unmistakably, fear--shrinking fear. At sight of the scaffold something like a tremor ran through the frame of the witch doctor, and he half stopped instinctively, while his lips moved in piteous protest. Ivondwe was as impassive as a statue; but the chief's son walked with his head thrown back, his tall form erect, and a bitter scowl of hate and defiance upon his face. Then his glance met mine. "That is the man through whom I am here," he roared. "Are there none present to whom I may bequeath my vengeance?" And he glared around. "Yet I saved thy life once, son of Tyingoza," I answered, speaking so that all could hear, and this I did with a purpose. "Walk on, Ivuzamanzi, and die like the son of a chief," said the sheriff to him in a low tone. And he obeyed. The Indian hangman and his assistant did their work quickly and well, and the three disappeared from view, hardly a quiver in the ropes showing that they had met death instantaneously, and in infinitely more merciful fashion than the lingering and horrible manner in which they had meted it out to so many unsuspecting victims sacrificed to their abominable and devilish superstition; and as I thought of one who came within an ace of adding to the number of such victims I could feel no pity for them now, which may have been wrong, but if it is I can't help it. In pursuance of the policy which had decreed that the execution should be public, the natives were allowed to come forward in batches and view the bodies if they wished. Many did so come forward, and the sight of the three hanging there, still and motionless, with the white caps drawn over their heads and faces, seemed to impress them deeply, judging from the remarks they made as they went away. Moreover I have reason to believe the effect was salutary and lasting. The pomp and awe and mystery of it appealed to them powerfully. I had a reason for answering Ivuzamanzi, otherwise I would not have seemed to wrangle with a man on the very steps of the scaffold. For, be it remembered, he was the son of a powerful chief, and his words might be in the highest degree dangerous to myself, and I had no hankering to be marked out as the object of a vendetta. But I knew that natives have a strong sense of justice, and the fact that I had once saved his life being made known, would go far towards taking the sting out of his denunciation. "He feared," said a native voice at my elbow. I turned quickly, though I knew the voice. It was that of Jan Boom. "He feared," repeated the Xosa. "He feared death. His heart melted to water within him. _Silungile_! Now am I avenged." CHAPTER THIRTY THREE. CONCLUSION.