Then a bar was lifted and one of them allowed to escape,
only to find himself in a kind of gangway which ran down into shallow
water. Being forced along this he came to an open space of water exactly
opposite to the floating fetishes, and there was kept a while by men
armed with spears. As nothing happened they lifted their spears and the
man bolted up an incline and was lost among the thousands of spectators.
The next one, evidently a person of rank, was not so fortunate. Jumping
into the pool off the gangway, he stood there like a sheep about to be
washed, the water reaching up to his middle. Then Alan saw a terrifying
thing, for suddenly the horrid, golden head of Big Bonsa, towing Little
Bonsa behind it, began to swim with a deliberate motion across the
stream until, reaching the man, it seemed to rear itself up and poke
him with its snout in the chest as a turtle might do. Then it sank again
into the water and slowly floated back to its station, directed by some
agency or power that Alan could not discover.
At the touch of the fetish the man screamed like a horse in pain or
terror, and soldiers leaping on him with a savage shout, dragged him up
another gangway opposite to that by which he had descended, whereon, to
all appearances more dead than alive, he departed into the shadows.
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