[The Ivory Trail by Talbot Mundy]@TWC D-Link book
The Ivory Trail

CHAPTER SIX
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He demanded permission again and again from each one of us, making me especially repeat my words.

Then he gathered stems of grass a third of an inch thick from the bed of the tiny watercourse, and proceeded to make a tiny fire, talking in a hurry as he did it to several of Fred's string of porters, who were now arriving on the scene.
While I watched with a sort of tortured interest what he was doing at the fire, five of the largest boys with whom he had been speaking rushed me from behind, and before I could struggle, or even swear, had me pinned out on my back on the ground.

One sat on my head; one on my poor bruised stomach; the others held wrists and ankles in such way that I could not break free, nor even kick much, however hard I tried.
Then Kazimoto came with glowing ends of grass from the fire, blowing on them to keep them cherry-red, and inserted one after another into the open spear-wound.

I could not cry out, because of the man sitting on my face, but I could bite.

And to the everlasting glory of the man--Ali bin Yema, his name was--be it written that he neither spoke nor moved a muscle, although my front teeth met in his flesh.
I do not know how long the process lasted, or how many times Kazimoto returned to the fire for more of his sizzling sticks, for I fainted; and when I came round the agony was still too intense to permit interest in anything but agony.


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