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I sprang to my feet with a yell of horror, and drawing my revolver fired
it by a sort of instinct straight at the diabolical woman who had been
caressing Mahomed, and was now gripping him in her arms. The bullet
struck her in the back and killed her, and to this day I am glad that
it did, for, as it afterwards transpired, she had availed herself of the
anthropophagous customs of the Amahagger to organise the whole thing in
revenge of the slight put upon her by Job. She sank down dead, and as
she did so, to my terror and dismay, Mahomed, by a superhuman effort,
burst from his tormenters, and, springing high into the air, fell dying
upon her corpse. The heavy bullet from my pistol had driven through
the bodies of both, at once striking down the murderess, and saving her
victim from a death a hundred times more horrible. It was an awful and
yet a most merciful accident.
For a moment there was a silence of astonishment. The Amahagger had
never heard the report of a firearm before, and its effects dismayed
them.


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