All the preparations being complete, the inhabitants of the kotta gathered around the pyre and the bodies of those fallen were arranged on the top of it clad in their full war costumes. The rosin at the bottom layer was ignited and thick clouds of smoke followed by great flames soon shot up high into the air. The prisoners of war were now fetched from their cages and tied to the sapoendoes. Their aspect betokened the deepest misery. Their matted hair fell around their shoulders and the ewahs which formed their only garments were hanging from their loins in tatters. For the rest, their appearance was calm and peaceful; not defiant, but yet not downcast. As soon as they were tied to their respective stakes the priestesses began their incantations as a sign that all was ready for the commencement of the degrading ceremony. Some of the men posted themselves near the pyre and blew poisoned arrows into the rising smoke to disperse evil spirits, but the majority of them made a wide circle around the poor victims. High up among the trees a number of hungry vultures had collected with an instinctive knowledge of what was going to take place. Amai Kotong now stepped forward; he raised his lance and slightly wounded the first of the prisoners in the shoulder. He was followed by Harimaoung Boekit, the Poenans, Kapoeasese and Sirattese, each of whom in his turn gave a prick and passed on to make room for others to succeed. When all had had their turns the same order was resumed and the round recommenced. The blood flowed abundantly and as it congealed in large clots was eagerly devoured from time to time by the vultures. The intense agony felt by the martyr elicited not a single cry from him, but the descent of the birds to devour his blood seemed to cause him the most poignant anguish. That he should behold while living the fate that awaited him after death was a martyrdom so terrible, so inhuman, that only the imagination of fiends could have conceived it. It was hard enough to be fastened to a stake unable to defend himself from certain death, while full of vital power and clinging to dear life despite its trials and miseries. But to be reminded of the inevitable by every thrust of the lance, by each descent of the vultures upon his oozing life’s blood, formed a climax of anguish that must have wrung the heart of the sufferer. Nevertheless, though exhibiting signs of mental perturbation, he stoically abstained from uttering a sound to gladden the souls of his tormentors. At last there came an end to his martyrdom; death supervening from loss of blood. His executioners then quitted him to repeat the same operations upon their next victim, leaving his still warm body hanging in its fetters to stiffen on the stake. Now came the turn of the vultures and a scene ensued too horrible to depict. Seven more human bodies were massacred that day with the same tortures and under the same terrible circumstances.