The village people were all gathered down at the landing place to welcome the chiefs home.  They watched patiently for the boats.  When the boats came the people shouted for joy.

“Welcome home, Chief Edem,” said Mary.  “How was your trip?  Did you enjoy your visit at Duke Town?”

“The trip was fine, Ma,” said Chief Edem.  “Duke Town is a big village.  They have a big churchhouse.  We saw many things.”

“Did you need your guns and swords?” asked Mary.

“No, Ma, you were right.  We did not need guns or swords.  King Eyo was good to us.  We have many fine things.”

“If you work hard and get things to trade, you can get many more fine things,” said Mary.

“We are going to work hard.  We want many of those fine things we saw.”

The men did work.  Because they were busy they had less time and less desire to get drunk and quarrel.  Mary’s missionary work was having its effect on the lives of the people.  Slowly they were changing from their heathen ways, but there was still much to do.

One day while Mary and Mr. Ovens were working on the mission house they heard a wild scream from the nearby jungle.  Mary jumped up.

“Something is wrong in the jungle,” said Mary.  “Johnny, go and see what it is.”

One of her orphan boys ran off to find out what was wrong.  In a few minutes he came back.

“Ma, Ma,” he cried, “a man is hurt.  Maybe he is dead.  Come quick.”

Mary grabbed her case of medicines and followed Johnny into the jungle.  When she reached the place where the young man was lying, she looked into his face.

“It is Etim, the son of our chief, Edem.  He is going to get married soon and is building his house.  A tree fell the wrong way and hit him.  He cannot move his arms or legs.  This means bad trouble.  The people will say it is witchcraft.”

Mary with her helpers quickly made a stretcher to carry Etim.  They carried him to his mother’s home at Ekenge.

“I will nurse him,” said Mary to Etim’s mother.

For two weeks Mary took care of him night and day.  She prayed God to spare the young man’s life.  She did everything she knew to help him.  Etim did not get better.  Day by day he became worse.  Sunday morning came.  Mary could see that he did not have long to live.  She left him for a short time to arrange for Mr. Ovens to take care of the church services.  Hearing Etim groaning and crying out, she rushed back to the house where he was.

The natives were blowing smoke into his nose.  They were rubbing pepper into his eyes.  His uncle, Ekponyong, shouted into his ears.  They thought they were helping him to get well.  Instead they made him die sooner.  In a moment he gave a cry and fell back dead.

“Etim is dead!” cried the people in the house.  “Witches have killed him!  They must die!  Bring the witch doctor at once!”

The people who were in the house quickly disappeared, and soon only Mary and Etim’s relatives were left.  When the witch doctor came, he did all kinds of queer things, which he said would tell him who had made the young man die.  He pretended to be listening to the dead boy talk.