Once more they rallied and came swooping down on the ship. But a
pebble from the sling of a man on the ship struck the savage priest
on the forehead; he tottered and fell on the sand. This infuriated
the savages, yet it took the heart out of these men who had trusted in
their god of war.

Meanwhile the tide had been creeping up; it swung in still further and
lifted the ship from the sand; the wind veered, the sails strained.
Slowly, but with gathering speed, the ship stood out to sea followed
by howls of rage from the men on the beach.

* * * * *

Some years passed by, yet Wilfrid in all his travels had never
forgotten the Men of the Beach. And, strangely enough, he wanted to go
back to them.

At last the time came when he could do so. This time he did not visit
them by sea. After he had preached among the people in a distant
part of the same great island, Wilfrid with four faithful
companions--Eappa, Padda, Burghelm and Oiddi--walked down to the south
coast of the island.

As he came to the tribe he found many of them gathered on the beach
as before. But the fierceness was gone. They tottered with weakness as
they walked. The very bones seemed ready to come through their skin.
They were starving with hunger and thirst from a long drought, when
no grain or food of any kind would grow. And now they were gathered on
the shore, and a long row of them linked hand in hand would rush down
the very beach upon which they had attacked Wilfrid, and would cast