s raging; now imagining himself fastened near a
burning furnace whose flames were fed by the bodies of those whom he had
slain. He would cry out in terror, and beads of perspiration would start
upon his forehead. He lived the whole war over again, and his only rest
was at times when, partially conscious, he felt kindly hands placing
cool bandages on his burning head, or gently fanning his face.

The time at last came when he sank into a heavy sleep, and awoke calling
"Mother."

It was Manasseh who came, almost startled by the naturalness of the
tone.

"I have been very ill, Manasseh?"

"Very."

"Long?"

"For weeks. But you must not talk. You will soon be well now."

The invalid closed his eyes, not to sleep, but to think. Presently he
opened them.

"Manasseh, if I had died, would I have seen Asru?"

Manasseh was embarrassed. "I--I cannot say," he stammered. "I do not
know you well enough to be sure."

"You do not think I should. I do not think so either," he returned
decidedly, and closed his eyes again.

In a few days he was able to talk.

"Manasseh, did I hear Yusuf praying for me once when I was ill?"

"He prayed for you every day,--not only that you might be spared to us,
but that you might come to know Jesus, and to reject Mohammed."

"I do not think that I ever accepted him--that is, in a religious
sense," he returned.

Manasseh's eyes opened wide in astonishment. "Then why did you follow
him?" he asked.

"Because, I suppose, his successes dazzled me. It seemed a grand thing
to be a hero in the war--to ride, and charge, and drive all before me.
Aye, Manasseh, it is after the war that the scales fall from one's
eyes."

"How could you, then, follow one whom you did not accept, and must,
therefore, have deemed an impostor?"

"I tell you, Manasseh, I gave little heed to matters of religion. For
the first time, during the last few days, I have thought of a religious
life, or of a hereafter, as I lay here feeling that but for you and your
friends, I should even now be in the unknown land beyond the grave."

Manasseh talked long and earnestly to the now convalescent youth. Yusuf
and Amzi too talked gently to him when he seemed inclined to hear, but,
in his present weak state, they deemed that the consciousness of living
in a godly house would appeal more strongly than words of theirs. The
weeks passed on, yet he gave no indication that their hopes were being
realized. Once indeed he said:

"Ma