But this temporary building was not proof against cunning attempts at burglary on the part of the natives.

The missionaries at length went to the Chief (who was clothed shamelessly in the stolen calicoes) and sought redress.

"All right," said the potentate, who kept a fretful realm in awe, "_But_ you have no proof it _is_ my people who break in and steal.

You just catch one in the act, and _then_ you'll see what I'll do." So the Oxford and Cambridge athletic missionaries sat up night after night under some camouflage and at last their patience was rewarded by the capture of a naked, oily-skinned negro who emerged from a tunnel he had dug under the store-foundations.

Then they bore him off to the Yao chieftain.
"_Now_ we know where we are," said the Chief.