and
cultivate for the Government. Its local officials' tempers
had apparently not improved with its troubles. None on this
alien mission within its borders were liable to be accounted
trustworthy, all were liable to suspicion. Yet Isaka worked on
happily for a while. When his teacher was moved to a place of
internment he was allowed to keep one body servant. He invited
Isaka to come, and Isaka came right willingly. He might have been
passed by, and the choice lain among others, but his teacher
asked him as the first choice of all, if he would come with him?
Was it likely that he would refuse?

Then suspicion fell upon Isaka in a day of rebuke and blasphemy.
Probably he was to blame, probably he said more than he should
have said, probably he did not recognize how well off he was.
Anyhow the blow fell, and he was to be envied no longer, as he
had been.

He was beaten rather mercilessly, and taken to be a Government
porter in a district far away. The tears came into his teacher's
eyes when he bade Isaka farewell; his own captivity was
wearisome, he was beginning to feel his age now; also this boy
had been as a son to him.

It was all like an evil dream, this war, so fecund of death and
parting among friends, this riding of the Red Horse that had
haunted Isaka's visions of the night. The light was just coming
when he awaked from them at the German Mission Station. He was
loath and slow to unroll himself from his one torn blanket and to
step out of it. But someone kicked him angrily, and then needs
must. He had come on these last days ever so many miles, and
carried a full load. He struggled up stiffly, and crept to the
little fire that two of his fellows were heaping and lighting
while they chattered together. They were tribesmen of a district
far from his own. One was telling a story of how their white
masters with native soldiers had raided, a village. The other,
whose village it was, full-stopped the story with grunts or
deprecations. There had been some throats cut. Folk had been
bidden to lie down, so the teller said; they had lain down as for
the lash, but they had been paid in cold steel. Isaka listened
dazedly. The end of his Christian era seemed to have come as
suddenly and unexplainedly as the end of his Pagan era. His
teacher had preached 'love,' 'love,' 'love,' with Pauline
iteration, and not a little self-repetition. His teacher had
taught that war was an unclean thing haunting the heathen world,
and