ter all, why should she not, seeing that her mother,
the Bible and Nature had been her only associates and sources of
information, if we except the poor slaves who waited on them, most of
whom were mutes.

When Mrs. Eversley's story was done, we told ours, in a compressed form.
It was strange to see the wonder with which these two ladies listened to
its outlines, but on that I need not dwell. When it was finished I heard
Miss Hope say:

"So it would seem, O Stephen Somers, that it is you who are saviour to
us."

"Certainly," answered Stephen, "but why?"

"Because you see the dry Holy Flower far away in England, and you say,
'I must be Holy Father to that Flower.' Then you pay down shekels (here
her Bible reading came in) for the cost of journey and hire brave hunter
to kill devil-god and bring my old white-head parent with you. Oh yes,
you are saviour," and she nodded her head at him very prettily.

"Of course," replied Stephen with enthusiasm; "that is, not exactly,
but it is all the same thing, as I will explain later. But, Miss Hope,
meanwhile could you show us the Flower?"

"Oh! Holy Mother must do that. If you look thereon without her, you
die."

"Really!" said Stephen, without alluding to his little feat of wall
climbing.

Well, the end of it was that after a good deal of hesitation, the Holy
Mother obliged, saying that as the god was dead she supposed nothing
else mattered. First, however, she went to the back of the house and
clapped her hands, whereon an old woman, a mute and a very perfect
specimen of an albino native, appeared and stared at us wonderingly.
To her Mrs. Eversley talked upon her fingers, so rapidly that I could
scarcely follow her movements. The woman bowed till her forehead nearly
touched the ground, then rose and ran towards the water.

"I have sent her to fetch the paddles from the canoe," said Mrs.
Eversley, "and to put my mark upon it. Now none will dare to use it to
cross the lake."

"That is very wise," I replied, "as we don't want news of our
whereabouts to get to the Motombo."

Next we went to the enclosure, where Mrs. Eversley with a native knife
cut a string of palm fibres that was sealed with clay on to the door
and one of its uprights in such a fashion that none could enter without
breaking the string. The impression was made with a rude seal that she
wore round her neck as a badge of office. It was a very curious object
fashioned of gold and having deeply cut upon it