there were elements of uncertainty and danger in the situation. The
Okoyong might be on the war-path: her paddlers were their sworn
enemies: a tactless word or act might ruin the expedition. As the canoe
glided along the river she communed with God, and in the end left the
issue with Him. "Man," she thought, "can do nothing with such a
people."

Arriving at the landing beach she made her way by a forest track to a
village of mud huts called Ekenge, four miles inland. Her reception was
a noisy one; men, women, and children thronged about her, and called
her "Mother," and seemed pleased at her courage at coming alone. The
chief, Edem, one of the aristocrats of Okoyong, was sober, but his
neighbour at Ifako, two miles farther on, whom she wished to meet, was
unfit for human company, and she was not allowed to proceed. She stayed
the night at Ekenge, where she gathered the King's boys about her to
hold family worship. The crowd of semi-naked people standing curiously
watching the proceedings exclaimed in wonder as they heard the words
repeated in unison: "God so loved the world," and so on. At ten o'clock
the women were still holding her fast in talk. One, the chiefs sister,
called Ma Eme, attracted her. "I think," she said, "she will be my
friend, and be an attentive hearer of the Gospel." Wearied at last with
the strain she was forced to retire into the hut set apart for her.

A shot next morning startled the village. Two women on going outside
had been fired at from the bush. In a moment every man had his gun and
sword and was searching for the assailant. Mary went with one of the
parties, but to find any one in such a labyrinth was impossible, and
the task was given up. Going to Ifako she interviewed the chiefs. The
charm of her personality, her frankness, her fearlessness, won them
over, and they promised her ground for a schoolhouse. Would, she asked,