One way of punishing us was by rubbing red peppers into our eyes, and another by cutting little slits in the skin over our shoulders and backs where we could not reach, and rubbing pepper into the sores thus made. They hoped by this means not only to punish us, but to harden us, and make of us brave men who would not flinch at pain. In the case of accusations of stealing, the most popular way of settling the affair was by the poison ordeal. That was a very frequent occurrence in those days, and still is in parts where the white men do not visit often. It was like this. All the people gathered together, and the chief, witch-doctor, and headmen seated themselves to hear the trial. The persons concerned gave their evidence, and the accused was allowed to make his defence; but if he were a slave, of what use was it? Then the evidence would be summed up, and the decision given that the poison ordeal be administered. The bark was brought and scraped, then mixed with water, and the draught given to the prisoner. We always took it willingly, for we all believed that it revealed the truth, and therefore were obliged to stand or fall by it. After it was drunk in the presence of the people, all waited eagerly for the result. If the prisoner vomited, and was none the worse, of course he had been falsely accused; if, on the other hand, he fell and died, there was proof positive of his guilt. What could any one want more decisive than that? Occasionally there were fights between different villages near to us, as well as the warlike expeditions to other tribes. When two villages had been fighting for a long time, and neither could win or was willing to give in, it was generally settled by a peace-offering. At such a time we slaves went in fear of our lives, for it was almost certain that a slave would be hanged as a peace-offering, and possibly his corpse would be eaten afterwards. With all these fears surrounding us, and never feeling sure of our lives for a single day—no matter how kind some of the people might be to us—you will not be surprised to hear that whenever we got together and could talk a little our conversation always turned to the subject of our escape from slavery. But so far as we could see there was no possibility of getting away. About this time we began to hear rumours of some strange people who had paid a visit to a village not far from my father’s place, Ekaka. They were said to be white—men like us but with white skins—and they came in a canoe which went of itself, having no paddlers, but emitting smoke from the roof.