amous in the land, for the people knew that Ma
understood them and gave them justice. So much, indeed, did they trust
her that they got into the habit of taking their quarrels and troubles
first to the Mission House, and there Ma made peace and saved them going
to law. Even when she was ill they came and squatted down outside her
bedroom window, and the girls took in their stories to her, and she
called out to the people and told them what to do.

A young man, a slave, wanted to be free, and came to Ma. "I am sorry,"
she said, "the Court cannot do anything, but--the country lies before
you."

He took the hint, and bolted out of the district.

A huntsman, in search of game, saw a movement amongst the bushes, and
cried out, "Any one there?" There was no answer, and he fired. A scream
made him rush to the spot, and to his horror he found that he had shot a
girl. He carried her to the nearest house, where she died. He was
brought up and tried, and acquitted, as he had not meant to harm her.
But native law is "life for life," and the people demanded a life for
the life that had been taken. The man, in his despair, ran to Ma.
Cutting off a lock of his hair, he gave it to her. This meant that all
he had was hers, and that the tribe would have to deal with her too. But
she knew that if he stayed he would be killed, and told him to fly,
which he did.

Ma was also going on with her real work, preaching and teaching,
training boys and girls to become little missionaries, and carrying the
light of the Gospel further and further into the heathen forest. And, as
usual, she was dreaming dreams. She now remembered the dream of Mr.
Thomson to build a holiday home for the missionaries. She said to
herself, "Can I not build a little one for the ladies in Calabar?" Some
money came to her, and she sought out a spot on the wooded hills nearer
the Creek called Use, and began to put up several mud cottages that
might be used for rest-homes. She did most of the work herself, with the
aid of Janie and the other girls, sleeping the while on the floor in a
hut.

One night a lady missionary stayed with her who was anxious to get away
early next morning.

"All right," said Ma, "I'll set the alarum clock."

The visitor looked puzzled, for there were no watches or clocks to be
seen. Ma went out to the yard where the fowls were kept and brought in a
rooster and tied it near the foot of her bed. At dawn the "alarum" went
off; the cock crew, and