It was indeed a terrible sight the two friends gazed upon. On the ground where the fight had furiously raged lay scores of dead blacks in all attitudes, just as they had fallen. It made them shudder¹ to look at the scene. The terrific nature of the blows dealt was apparent, for most of the dead had their skulls² fractured, and their features were ghastly and distorted. Their weapons lay near them, and Edgar picked up the club which the powerful black who fought the Enooma chief had used. It was a great weight, and fully³ three feet long, and capable of dealing⁴ a fearful blow, even in a weak man’s hands. The end was covered with blood and hair, showing that the Curracoo had killed many enemies before he was slain⁵.  
‘You will bury these men?’ asked Edgar.
 
‘The Enooma must have burial,’ said Yacka; ‘the Curracoo are not fit to be hidden away;’ and he struck a fallen black, who still showed signs of life, over the head with his club.
 
‘That was a cowardly thing to do,’ said Edgar.
 
‘They are not fit to live,’ said Yacka, and went on.
 
‘What a brute⁶ he is, after all!’ said Will, in a low voice. ‘He is no better than the others.’
 
‘He is a savage⁷ at heart,’ said Edgar, ‘and we must make allowances for him.’
 
‘If he kills defenceless men like that,’ said Will, ‘I would not give much for our lives if he felt disposed to turn upon us.’
 
‘He will not do that,’ said Edgar. ‘We are his friends, these men his enemies. Had the Curracoo won, they would have treated the Enooma in the same way. This savage warfare⁸ is the same the world over, I expect. It is a horrible sight.’
 
‘Over a hundred killed,’ said Yacka, with a savage smile; ‘and we have many prisoners.’
 
‘Shall you kill the prisoners?’ asked Edgar.
 
‘Yes; and leave them as a warning to the tribe.’
 
‘How will they be put to death?’ asked Edgar, who had read of the tortures inflicted⁹ by savages¹⁰ in Africa and elsewhere.
 
‘That will be decided,’ said Yacka. ‘The Enooma know how to kill their enemies.’
 
After a gruesome tramp over the battle-field, they returned to the camp. The victorious¹¹ Enooma were already commencing to celebrate their triumph.
 
Edgar saw a group of prisoners, about forty or fifty in number, bound with thongs¹² made of some kind of reed or long grass. They all looked terror-stricken, and evidently knew what was in store for them.
 
‘Poor wretches¹³!’ said Will. ‘It would be a kindness to shoot them.’
 
‘We must not interfere,’ said Edgar. ‘It would be risking our lives to do so. Even Yacka would not stand that.’
 
‘You saw a dance at Yanda,’ said Yacka. ‘You will see a genuine war dance soon.’
 
Towards night the big men of the tribe assembled round Yacka, and all squatted¹⁴ on the ground.
 
‘They are deciding the fate of the prisoners,’ said Will. ‘I hope it will not be very awful.’
 
The consultation¹⁵ did not last long, and Yacka came towards them. He seemed pleased at the prospect¹⁶ before him, and laughed harshly.
 
‘It is good,’ he said. ‘All die a dog’s death.’
 
‘Will they be hanged?’ asked Will.
 
‘Some,’ said Yacka. ‘Wait and see.’
 
There were many trees near the camp, and they had big white branches a good height from the ground. Ten of the Curracoos were brought forward and thrown down under the trees. They were then raised feet first, and bound with their heads downwards¹⁷ round the trunks of the trees. Others were drawn¹⁸ up, feet foremost, over the branches, and left hanging with their heads touching¹⁹ the feet of the others.
 
Edgar protested to Yacka, but he took no notice. The black was looking at the fearful scene with savage delight. There was no mercy to be got out of Yacka, so Edgar did not speak to him again.
 
Other blacks were brought to these trees, cast down on their faces, and spears were driven through their backs, pinning them to the ground in such a manner that they could not get free. Their cries were fearful, and made the place seem like a hell upon earth. Some of the cruelties were too fearful to relate, and yet Yacka watched it all with fiendish glee. When the last prisoner had been tortured and left to die a lingering death, Yacka was satisfied.
 
‘We cannot trust you after what we have seen,’ said Edgar. ‘We shall go back. Guide us to Alice Springs; if not, we must risk it, and go alone.’
 
Yacka was dumfounded. He could not understand the reason of their distrust in him. He had acted according to the customs of his tribe, and knew, had the Curracoo won, the Enooma would have been treated in a similar way. It was the fortune of war. The Enooma had gained the victory; why should the white men mistrust him because the tribe had taken their just revenge?
 
‘Yacka is your friend,’ said the black. ‘You have come to no harm. We make war in our own way. You kill many men with big guns. I have seen them fired. They kill many at one shot. It is more terrible than our wars.’
 
‘We do not torture prisoners,’ said Edgar. ‘You are no better than these savages.’
 
‘I am the son of Enooma,’ said Yacka; ‘therefore I am the head of them. The head guides the body. I am the chief, the king, and I am above them all.’
 
‘You are as cruel as they are,’ said Edgar. ‘If you are the King of the Enooma, why did you not kill these men at once, not torture them?’
 
‘It is the will of Enooma,’ said Yacka, ‘and she must be obeyed.’
 
‘The White Spirit would never allow men to be tortured,’ said Edgar. ‘There is no White Spirit over the Enooma; it is a black spirit, and full of evil.’
 
‘You saved Yacka’s life,’ said the black, ‘and he is grateful. If my tribe know you call Enooma a black spirit, Yacka could not save you. Follow me. It is not far. Yacka will lead you back when you have looked upon the White Spirit, and seen the gold and beautiful stones.’
 
The agonized²⁰ groans²¹ of the tortured blacks sounded terrible, and Edgar said:
 
‘Kill these men, and we will go with you.’
 
Yacka hesitated, and Edgar, noticing it, said:
 
‘I took your hand in friendship; now it is stained in blood. Kill these men, and I will forgive you, and the White Spirit will be glad.’
 
‘It shall be,’ said Yacka, and moved away towards the camp.
 
How he prevailed upon the tribe he did not say, but the tortured men were killed, and their groans ceased, much to Edgar’s relief.
 
After this experience, there was no telling what might happen if another encounter took place with a hostile tribe, and the Enooma were defeated. Yacka, however, had no intention of proceeding

Join or Log In! You need to log in to continue reading

Create a new account   I have a account already

	Create an New Account
Email:  (User Name)
Password:	Letters and numbers only. 6-20 characters.
Retype Password:
Screen Name:	Letters and numbers only. 6-50 Characters.
Confirmation Code:	(Please type in the characters in the green image.)

	Login into Your Account
Email:
Password:
	Remember me on this computer.