crossed, the heavy rains, made the task impossible. "I am going to get
ready," was her reply. Finding her immovable, the chief turned with a
face of gloom to the deputation and sent, them back with a demand for
an escort of freewomen and armed men. Mary imagined he was merely
endeavouring to mark time until the death took place: in reality he saw
the district given over to violence and murder, and she in the midst
and her life imperilled.

She passed a sleepless night. Was she right, after all, in taking so
great a risk? She laid the matter where she laid all her problems, and
came to the conclusion that she was. With the morning appeared the
guard of women, who intimated that the armed men would join them
outside the village. The rain was falling as they set out later came
down in torrents, continuous, and pitiless. Her boots were soon
abandoned; then her stockings; next her umbrella, broken in battle with
the vegetation, was thrown aside. Bit by bit her clothes, too heavy to
be endured, were transferred to the calabashes carried by the women on
their heads, and in the lightest of garments she struggled on through
the steaming bush.

Three hours of trudging brought her to a market-place where, in the
clearing atmosphere, hundreds of natives were gathering. They gazed at
her in amazement. Feeling humiliated at her appearance, she slunk shyly
and swiftly through their midst and went on, wondering if she had "lost
face" and their respect. Afterwards she learnt that the self-denial and
courage which that walk in the rain exhibited had done more than
anything else to win their hearts. Others, however, were not so well-
disposed. At one town the old chief was anything but courtly, and only
with reluctance allowed her to pass.