“That by poison or the spear he may put all of us to death, Nodwengo!  Be not afraid; ere long when he learns all that is happening here, your brother Hafela will come from the northern mountains, and the spears of his impis shall be countless as the stars of the sky.  Messenger, you desire to draw us to the arms of your God—­and myself, I am at times minded to follow the path of my son Nodwengo and seek a refuge there—­but say, will they be strong enough to protect us from Hafela and the warriors of the north?  Already he gathers his clans, and already my captains desert to him.  By-and-by, in the spring-time—­may I be dead before the day—­he will roll down upon us like a flood of water——­”

“To fall back like waters from a wall of rock,” answered Owen. “’Let not your heart be troubled,’ for my Master can protect His servants, and He will protect you.  But first you must confess Him openly, as your son has done.”

“Nay, I am too old to hurry,” said the king with a sigh.  “Your tale seems full of promise to one who is near the grave; but how can I know that it is more than a dream?  And shall I abandon the worship of my fathers and change, or strive to change, the customs of my people to follow after dreams?  Nodwengo has chosen his part, and I do not blame him; yet, for the present I beseech you both to keep silence on this matter, lest to save bloodshed I should be driven to side against you.”

“So be it, King,” said Owen; “but I warn you that Truth has a loud voice, and that it is hard to hide the shining of a light in a dark place, nor does it please my Lord to be denied by those who confess Him.”

“I am weary,” replied the old king, and they saluted him and went.

In obedience to the wish of Umsuka his father, the conversion of Nodwengo was kept secret, and yet—­none knew how—­the thing leaked out.  Soon the women in their huts, and the soldiers by their watch-fires, whispered it in each other’s ears that he who was appointed to be their future ruler had become a servant of the unknown God.  That he had forsworn war and all the delights of men; that he would take but one wife and appear before the army, not in the uniform of a general, but clad in a white robe, and carry, not the broad spear, but a cross of wood.  Swiftly the strange story flew from mouth to mouth, yet it was not altogether believed till it chanced that one day when he was reviewing a regiment, a soldier who was drunk with beer openly insulted the prince, calling him “a coward who worshipped a coward.”

Now men held their breaths, waiting to see this fool led away to die by torture of the ant-heap or some other dreadful doom.  But the prince only answered: 

“Soldier, you are drunk, therefore I forgive you your words.  Whether He Whom you blaspheme will forgive you, I know not.  Get you gone!”