Thus she prayed in a clear, deliberate voice, and I noticed that as she did so the tears ran down her cheeks.  “Amen,” she said at last, and the girl by her side, speaking with a strange little accent, echoed the “Amen.”

I looked round at Brother John.  He had heard something and was utterly overcome.  Fortunately enough he could not move or even speak.

“Hold him,” I whispered to Stephen and Mavovo, “while I go in and talk to these ladies.”

Then, handing the rifle to Hans, I took off my hat, pushed the gate a little wider open, slipped through it and called attention to my presence by coughing.

The two women, who had risen from their knees, stared at me as though they saw a ghost.

“Ladies,” I said, bowing, “pray do not be alarmed.  You see God Almighty sometimes answers prayers.  In short, I am one of—­a party—­of white people who, with some trouble, have succeeded in getting to this place and—­and—­would you allow us to call on you?”

Still they stared.  At length the elder woman opened her lips.

“Here I am called the Mother of the Holy Flower, and for a stranger to speak with the Mother is death.  Also if you are a man, how did you reach us alive?”

“That’s a long story,” I answered cheerfully.  “May we come in?  We will take the risks, we are accustomed to them and hope to be able to do you a service.  I should explain that three of us are white men, two English and one—­American.”

“American!” she gasped, “American!  What is he like, and how is he named?”

“Oh!” I replied, for my nerve was giving out and I grew confused, “he is oldish, with a white beard, rather like Father Christmas in short, and his Christian name (I didn’t dare to give it all at once) is—­er—­ John, Brother John, we call him.  Now I think of it,” I added, “he has some resemblance to your companion there.”

I thought that the lady was going to die, and cursed myself for my awkwardness.  She flung her arm about the girl to save herself from falling—­a poor prop, for she, too, looked as though she were going to die, having understood some, if not all, of my talk.  It must be remembered that this poor young thing had never even seen a white man before.

“Madam, madam,” I expostulated, “I pray you to bear up.  After living through so much sorrow it would be foolish to decease of—­joy.  May I call in Brother John?  He is a clergyman and might be able to say something appropriate, which I, who am only a hunter, cannot do.”

She gathered herself together, opened her eyes and whispered: 

“Send him here.”

I pushed open the gate behind which the others were clustered.  Catching Brother John, who by now had recovered somewhat, by the arm, I dragged him forward.  The two stood staring at each other, and the young lady also looked with wide eyes and open mouth.

“Elizabeth!” said John.

She uttered a faint scream, then with a cry of “Husband!” flung herself upon his breast.