STORY OF BULBOPHYLLUM BARBIGERUM 259 



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 glass-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 door- 

 way, 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 God ! 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, 



