“He was surrounded by hundreds of people, most of them moved to tears by their friend’s pitiable condition. I explained to him, that I had no power to save him; but he and all around had the conviction that if I only wished I could cure him. They followed me to my house, asking for medicine. Not to seem heartless, I sent him something to make his remaining moments easy. At the same time I warned them that he would die and they must not blame me. When I awoke the next morning I heard the mournful wail which proclaimed that poor Mpomo had gone to his long rest. The cry of the African mourners is the saddest I ever heard. They mourn literally as those who have no hope. “In the afternoon I heard talk of witchcraft. On the day Mpomo was buried proceedings were begun to discover who had bewitched him. A great doctor was brought from up the river, and for two nights and days incantations were repeated. On the third morning, when old and young, male and female, were frantic with the desire of revenge, the doctor began his final incantations. Every man and boy was armed with spears, or guns, or axes. The whole town was possessed by a thirst for human blood. For the first time I found my voice without authority. I could not even get a hearing.... At a motion from the doctor, the people became still. This silence lasted about a minute when the loud voice of the doctor was heard: ‘There is a very black woman who lives in a house,’ describing it, ‘she bewitched Mpomo.’ The crowd, roaring and screaming, rushed frantically for the place indicated. They seized upon a poor girl named Okondaga, the sister of my good friend and guide Adouma. Waving their weapons over her head, they tore her away to the water-side, bound her with cords, and then rushed back to the doctor again. “As poor Okondaga passed by in the hands of her murderers, she saw me, though I had turned away not to be seen, for I could not help her. I heard her cry out, ‘Chally, Chally, do not let me die!’ It was a moment of agony; I was minded to rush into the crowd and rescue the poor victim. But I should only have sacrificed my life, without helping her. So I hid myself behind a tree, and, I confess it, shed bitter tears. “Presently silence fell once more upon the crowd. Then the voice of the devilish doctor again rang over the town, like the croak of a raven, ‘There is an old woman in a house,’ describing it, ‘she bewitched Mpomo.’ “The crowd rushed off and seized a niece of King Quenguesa, a noble-hearted and majestic old woman. As they crowded about with flaming eyes, she rose proudly from the ground, looked them in the face unflinchingly, and motioning them to keep their hands off, said, ‘I will drink the mboundou, but woe to my accusers if I do not die.’ She was escorted to the river without being bound. She submitted without a tear or a murmur.