Page:The trail of the golden horn.djvu/175

Rh ing. He is testing us now, no doubt, that our faith in Him may be strengthened. Perhaps we have trusted too much to our own efforts, and not enough to Him.”

That night the missionary bent over his table, while time sped unheeded by. He worked later than usual, for Love was the great theme which occupied his mind. It thrilled his entire being, and drove all sleep from his eyes.

“This is my commandment, that ye love one another, as I have loved you. Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”

He had translated these wonderful words of the Master, and yet he was not satisfied. He longed to express them in such a way that the Indians would have no doubt as to their meaning. He wanted them to know that love was the greatest thing in the world, and that the proof of love was service, even to the giving of one’s life, if necessary. Not in receiving, but in giving, was to serve aright. If he could only impress the natives with that great truth, how much might be accomplished.

So deeply engrossed was he with his task, that he did not heed the opening of the door, which was never barred, nor the stealthy entrance of Bill, the Slugger, into the room. He was near the table when the missionary first became aware of his presence. He was greatly startled, and the pen dropped from his hand. Seeing who it was, a peculiar expression appeared in his eyes.

“Where did you come from?” he asked. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Ye wern’t, eh?” the visitor snarled. “Thought I’d gone fer sure, did ye?”

“Certainly, after what you did to me.” The mis-