I knew every word was a lie, but I wanted to hear more, for the man fascinated me.
'I suppose you know what will happen to you,' he said, flicking the ashes from his cigarette.

'To-morrow at Inanda's Kraal, when the vow is over, they will give you a taste of Kaffir habits.

Not death, my friend--that would be simple enough--but a slow death with every refinement of horror.

You have broken into their sacred places, and you will be sacrificed to Laputa's god.

I have seen native torture before, and his own mother would run away shrieking from a man who had endured it.' I said nothing, but the thought made my flesh creep.
'Well,' he went on, 'you're in an awkward plight, but I think I can help you.