A long, low shed showed ahead, grass-walled and
grass-thatched, and it was from here that the noise proceeded. There
were shrieks and screams, some unmistakably of grief, others unmistakably
of unendurable pain. As the white man drew closer he could hear a low
and continuous moaning and groaning. He shuddered at the thought of
entering, and for a moment was quite certain that he was going to faint.
For that most dreaded of Solomon Island scourges, dysentery, had struck
Berande plantation, and he was all alone to cope with it. Also, he was
afflicted himself.
By stooping close, still on man-back, he managed to pass through the low
doorway. He took a small bottle from his follower, and sniffed strong
ammonia to clear his senses for the ordeal. Then he shouted, "Shut up!"
and the clamour stilled. A raised platform of forest slabs, six feet
wide, with a slight pitch, extended the full length of the shed.
Alongside of it was a yard-wide run-way. Stretched on the platform, side
by side and crowded close, lay a score of blacks. That they were low in
the order of human life was apparent at a glance. They were man-eaters.
Their faces were asymmetrical, bestial; their bodies were ugly and ape-
like. They wore nose-rings of clam-shell and turtle-shell, and from the
ends of their noses which were also pierced, projected horns of beads
strung on stiff wire.
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