“Where is the snake?” he asked when at length she was out of danger.

“Yonder, under the kaross,” answered John, pointing to a skin rug which lay in the corner.

“Have you killed it?”

“No, Messenger,” answered the man, “I dare not.  Alas! we must live with the thing here in the hut till it chooses to go away.”

“Truly,” said Owen, “I am ashamed to think that you who are a Christian should still believe so horrible a superstition.  Does your faith teach you that the souls of men enter into snakes?”

Now John hung his head; then snatching a kerry, he threw aside the kaross, revealing a great green serpent seven or eight feet long.  With fury he fell upon the reptile, killed it by repeated blows, and hurled it into the courtyard outside the house.

“Behold, father,” he said, “and judge whether I am still superstitious.”  Then his countenance fell and he added:  “Yet my life must pay for this deed, for it is an ancient law among us that to harm one of these snakes is death.”

“Have no fear,” said Owen, “a way will be found out of this trouble.”

That afternoon Owen heard a great hubbub outside his kraal, and going to see what was the matter, he found a party of the witch-doctors dragging John towards the place of judgment, which was by the king’s house.  Thither he followed to discover that the case was already in course of being opened before the king, his council, and a vast audience of the people.  Hokosa was the accuser.  In brief and pregnant sentences, producing the dead snake in proof of his argument, he pointed out the enormity of the offence against the laws of the Amasuka wherewith the prisoner was charged, demanding that the man who had killed the house of his ancestral spirit should instantly be put to death.

“What have you to say?” asked the king of John.

“This, O King,” replied John, “that I am a Christian, and to me that snake is nothing but a noxious reptile.  It bit my wife, and had it not been for the medicine of the Messenger, she would have perished of the poison.  Therefore I killed it before it could harm others.”

“It is a fair answer,” said the king.  “Hokosa, I think that this man should go free.”

“The king’s will is the law,” replied Hokosa bitterly; “but if the law were the king’s will, the decision would be otherwise.  This man has slain, not a snake, but that which held the spirit of an ancestor, and for the deed he deserves to die.  Hearken, O King, for the business is larger than it seems.  How are we to be governed henceforth?  Are we to follow our ancient rules and customs, or must we submit ourselves to a new rule and a new custom?  I tell you, O King, that the people murmur; they are without light, they wander in the darkness, they cannot understand.  Play with us no more, but let us hear the truth that we may judge of this matter.”

Umsuka looked at Owen, but made no reply.