In the very midst of the foaming rapids, and about a thousand yards
from the house lies a space of rippling shallow water, where, unless it
chances to be in flood, the river can be forded. It is this ford that
Owen watches so intently.

"John should have been back twelve hours ago," he mutters to himself. "I
pray that no harm has befallen him at the Great Place yonder."

Just then a tiny speck appears far away on the plain. It is a man
travelling towards the water at a swinging trot. Going into the hut,
Owen returns with a pair of field-glasses, and through them scrutinises
the figure of the man.

"Heaven be praised! It is John," he mutters, with a sigh of relief.
"Now, I wonder what answer he brings?"

Half an hour later John stands before him, a stalwart native of the
tribe of the Amasuka, the People of Fire, and with uplifted hand salutes
him, giving him titles of honour.

"Praise me not, John," said Owen; "praise God only, as I have taught you
to do. Tell me, have you seen the king, and what is his word?"

"Father," he answered, "I journeyed to the great town, as you bade me,
and I was admitted before the majesty of the king; yes, he received me
in the courtyard of the House of Women. With his guards, who stood at
a distance out of hearing, there were present three only; but oh! those
three were great, the greatest in all the land after the king. They were
Hafela, the king that is to come, the prince Nodwengo, his brother, and
Hokosa the terrible, the chief of the wizards; and I tell you, father,