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If he found, on peering cautiously at the couches, that his way-worn guests still slept on, he would creep out of the camp to the fire,[1] and with a shovel (which had long before been prepared for the purpose) take up quite a heap of glowing embers, which he straightway poured over the sleepers' devoted heads, thereby sending them into their last long sleep.
As a matter of course, the poor Ngarous thus destroyed were carefully hidden away, so that casual passing travellers might not have a chance of discovering the wicked character of the beastly ogre, and he and his spouse, worthy spouse for such a mate, would delectate upon the bodies of their victims as long as they lasted; and when the ghastly food had all been consumed, they wearied much, until dame fortune kindly sent them some other tired out Ngarou in search of rest and refreshments, when the same cruel proceedings would be pitilessly and ruthlessly carried out.
The total disappearance of so many of their fellows, and always during their migrations at breeding time, or at the yam season, gave rise to the greatest distress and wonderment among the innocent Ngarous; but when they discovered the cause of their many serious bereavements through the escape of a half-throttled, young yam-eating Ngarou, together with a like miraculous escape of a worn-down old hen returning from the breeding grounds, that managed to get out of the horrid monster's clutches, with the loss of all her neck and head feathers, their consternation was pitiful to behold. They knew not what to do, in
- ↑ Although the Ngarous were not a cooking community, still they always kept a fire burning, more especially during the hours of slumber, with a view to its protecting influence.
