his servant, were to be led on towards the Great Place at such speed as
would bring him there in time for him to behold the last ceremony of the
feast of first-fruits; but, for the present, that the waggon itself
and the oxen were to be left at the mouth of the gorge, in charge of a
guard, who would be answerable for them.

Now, on this morning the captain of the guard and his orderlies advanced
to the waggon and stood in front of it. They were splendid men, armed
with great spears and shields, and adorned with feather head-dresses and
all the wild finery of their regiment. Owen descended from the waggon
and came to meet them, and so for a few moments they remained, face to
face, in silence. A strange contrast they presented as they stood there;
the bare-headed white man frail, delicate, spiritual of countenance, and
the warriors great, grave, powerful, a very embodiment of the essence
of untamed humanity, an incarnate presentation of the spirit of savage
warfare.

"How are you named, White Man?" asked the captain.

"Chief, I am named Messenger."

"The peace of the king be with you, Messenger," said the captain,
lifting his spear.

"The peace of God be with you, Chief," answered Owen, holding up his
hands in blessing.

"Who is God?" asked the captain.

"Chief, He is the King I serve, and His word is between my lips."