"If you must go," said Chief Edem, "then you must take two armed men with you. You must get the chief of the next village to send his drummer with you. When the people hear the drum, they will know that a protected person is traveling who must not be hurt."

It was night. Mary Slessor and the two men marched out into the darkness. The lanterns threw strange shadows that looked like fierce men in the darkness. At last Mary and her guard came to the village where they were to ask for the drummer. They told the chief what Chief Edem had said, but the chief did not want to help them.

"You are going to a fighting tribe," said the chief. "They will not listen to what a woman says. You had better go back. I will not protect you."

"You don't think a woman can do much. Maybe you are right," said Mary to the chief. "But you forget what the woman's G.o.d can do. He can do anything. I shall go on."

Mary went on into the darkness. The natives watched her go. She must be crazy, they thought. She had talked back to their chief who had the power to kill her. She had walked on into a jungle where wild leopards were ready to jump on her. She was going where men were drinking and making themselves wild. But Mary was not afraid. Once in talking about her trips through the jungle Mary said, "My great help and comfort was prayer. I did not used to believe the story of Daniel in the lions' den until I had to take some of those awful marches through the jungle. Then I knew it was true. Many times I walked alone, praying, 'O G.o.d of Daniel, shut their mouths!' and He did."

After pushing on through the darkness, Mary saw the dim outlines of the huts of the village. All was quiet. Suddenly she heard the swift patter of bare feet. She was surrounded by warriors shouting, pushing and shaking their spears.

"What have you come for?" asked the chief.

"I have heard a young man is hurt. I come to help him. I also heard that you are going to war. I have come to ask you not to fight," said Mary.

The chief talked with some of his men. Then he came up to Mary.

"The white Ma is welcome," he said. "She shall hear all we have to say before we fight. All the same we shall fight. Here is my son wounded by the enemy. We must wipe out the shame put on us. We must get even for this bad thing. Now Ma you may give my son your medicine. Then you must rest. Women, you take care of the white Ma. We will call her at c.o.c.kcrow when we start."

Mary fixed the young man's hand. Then she laid down in one of the huts for an hour's sleep. It seemed as though her eyes were hardly shut, before she heard a voice calling her.

"Ma, they are going to battle. Run, Ma, run!"

The warriors were on the warpath. Mary could hear their wild yells and the roll of the war drums. Mary ran after them. She was tired from the hard trip to their village. She was weak from the sickness she had. But nothing could stop her. She caught up with the warriors just as they were getting ready to attack an enemy village.

"Behave like men," she yelled, "not like fools. Be quiet now. Do not yell and shout."

The warriors became silent.

"G.o.d says that revenge is wrong," said Mary. "He will pay back wicked people for the wrong things they do. You should not try to get even. Leave that to G.o.d."

"No, no," said the chief. "If we do not pay back for the wrong done us, the tribe will not be afraid of us. They will do more bad things to us."

"Yes, yes," shouted the warriors. They kept shouting and shaking their swords and guns.

"Did the whole village hurt you? Did the whole village shoot the young man?

When you fight against the village you will hurt many women and children. They are innocent. They have done nothing. Let us pray to G.o.d about it."

All the warriors were quiet as Mary prayed. She asked G.o.d to please stop the war if it was His will. She prayed for the young man who had been hurt. She prayed for whoever it was that hurt him, that he might turn away from his wickedness and become a Christian. She prayed for the people of the village.

Then Mary spoke to the warriors.

"You stay here," she said, "I am going over to the village."

Fearlessly she walked over to where the line of village warriors were drawn up with their swords and spears.

"h.e.l.lo," said Mary.

The warriors said nothing. Mary looked over the angry faces. Then she laughed.

"Nice bunch," she said. "Is this the way you welcome lady visitors?"

The warriors stirred uneasily. They did not say anything.

"Where is your chief?" asked Mary. "Surely he is not afraid to talk to me."

An old chief stepped out from behind the village warriors. To Mary's surprise he kneeled down in front of her.

"Ma," he said, "we thank you for coming. It is true we shot the young man, the young chief of those who have come to fight us. But it was one man who did it. The whole village was not at fault. Please make peace. Tell us what we must do."

Mary looked into the face of the chief. It was Chief Okurike. Long ago she had made a hard trip through the jungle in pouring rain to help when he was deathly sick. Because of what she had done then, he was now at her feet asking her to make peace. Mary shook hands with Chief Okurike. Then she spoke to his warriors.

"Stay where you are," she said. "Some of you find a place where I can sit in comfort. I am hungry. Bring me breakfast. I will not starve while men fight."

The warriors did as she told them.

"Now," she said, "choose two or three men to speak for you. We shall have a palaver. In that way we will settle this thing."

The four men met and talked with one another while Mary ate breakfast.

"Why do you want to fight and kill because one drunken man wounded your young chief?" Mary asked the men from the fighting tribe. "Let the tribe of the drunken youth pay a fine."

A long talk followed. Sometimes it became very exciting. The arguing grew loud. The father of the young man wanted to have the man who had shot him punished hard. When the men became angry, Mary would stop them.

"Let us pray about this," Mary would say. After she had prayed they would settle the point. Finally Mary and her G.o.d won out.

The fighting tribe at last agreed to be satisfied with a fine. The village paid the fine. They did not use money. So the fine was paid in barrels and bottles of trade gin. Now Mary was worried. What should she do? She knew the warriors would drink the gin right away. She knew this would make them fight after all in spite of their promises. A quick thought came to her. According to the law of these people, clothes thrown over anything gave it the protection of your body. No one else could touch it. Mary s.n.a.t.c.hed off her skirt. She took off all the clothes she could spare. She spread them over the barrels and bottles. Now no one could touch them.

Mary took the one gla.s.s the tribe had. She gave one gla.s.sful to each chief to show that there was no trick and that the barrels and bottles were really filled with gin. Then she spoke to them about fighting. "If all of you go to your homes and don't fight," said Mary, "I'll promise to send the stuff after you. I must go away. I have been sick and I must go where I can get strong again. I am going across the great waters to my home. I shall be away many moons. Will you promise me that you will not fight while I am gone? It will make me very happy if you will make that promise. It will make me sad if you don't, for I will always be wondering whether you are fighting and hurting one another."

"I will promise," said the chief of the village, "if the other chief will."

All the warriors looked at the chief whose son had been hurt. For a long time he said nothing. His tribe had always been fighters. It would be hard for them to give up fighting. The chief rubbed his chin. He scratched his head.

"Yes, Ma," he said finally, "I will promise that we will not fight while you are gone." The two villages kept the promise made by their chiefs. When Mary came back the two chiefs could say, "It is peace."

Mary was very tired. Slowly she tramped through the hot jungle. After many hours she came to Ekenge.

"We have sent your trunks and things on ahead," said Chief Edem. "Here are my best rowers and best soldiers. They are ready to take you to Duke Town."

Mary once more stepped into the canoe. This time there was no one to call her back. Little black Janie, whom Mary had adopted, was with her.

"Good-by, good-by, Ma," shouted the crowd. "G.o.d keep you safe and bring you back to us again."

The rowers pulled their oars strongly, and swiftly down the slow moving river went the canoe. Three years Mary had spent in Okoyong. Already she had seen a change in the heathen people. A greater change was still to come. Mary was going to see more of the power the Gospel has to change heathen hearts and lives.