The feeble sprout of Christianity was planted by this good British girl.  It had appeared to be a hopeless task, but she began at the beginning and fought with Mercy as her lieutenant.  Humanity was a stranger to these people when she found them, but she patiently sowed the seeds and hoped.  A people capable of such idolatry as these poor wretches had shown themselves to be certainly could be led into almost any path of worship, she argued.

Late in the afternoon of their thirty-third day on the island the white idol of Nedra swung lazily in her hammock, which was stretched from post to post beneath the awning.  Two willowy maidens in simple brown were fanning her with huge palm leaves.  She was the personification of pretty indolence.  Her dreamy eyes were turned toward the river and there was a tender, eager longing in their depths.  Hugh was off in the hills with his workmen and the hour had passed for him to emerge from the woodland on his way to the village.

The shadows of night were beginning to settle upon the baking earth and a certain uneasiness was entering her bosom.  Then she caught a glimpse of his figure in the distance.  With his swarm of soldiers behind him he came from the forest and across the narrow lowlands toward the river.  He steadfastly refused to be carried to and from the “fortifications” in the rude litter that had been constructed for him, a duplicate of which had been made for her.  A native with a big white umbrella was constantly at his side and King Pootoo was in personal command of the workmen as “sub-boss.”  Ridgeway jocosely characterized his hundred workmen as “Micks,” and they had become expert wielders of the wooden pick, shovel and crowbar.  In the village there were the three hundred tired armorers who had worked all day among the hard saplings in the country miles to the south.  It was their duty to make an inexhaustible supply of spears, swords, etc.

As the American came up over the bank of the river Lady Tennys could not repress a smile of pride.  The white grass trousers, the huge white hat, and the jaunty military carriage had become so familiar to her that she could almost feel his approach before he came into view.  It was always the same confident, aggressive stride, the walk of the master.

Although the sun had dropped behind the twin giants and the haze of the night was on, Hugh’s faithful attendant carried the umbrella over his head.  The new Izor said, more than once, that, having taught the fellow to carry the protector, he could not unteach him.  Were it darkest midnight the umbrella was produced and carried with as much serenity as when the sun broiled and toasted at midday.  When the returning band of laborers was half way across Velvet Valley, Tennys, as was her wont, left her hammock and went forth to meet the man beneath the white sunshade.  His pace quickened and his face brightened as she drew near.  The hatless, graceful figure in white came up to him with the cry: