Owen descended from the waggon and came to meet them, and so for a few moments they remained, face to face, in silence.

A strange contrast they presented as they stood there; the bare-headed white man frail, delicate, spiritual of countenance, and the warriors great, grave, powerful, a very embodiment of the essence of untamed humanity, an incarnate presentation of the spirit of savage warfare.
"How are you named, White Man ?" asked the captain.
"Chief, I am named Messenger." "The peace of the king be with you, Messenger," said the captain, lifting his spear.
"The peace of God be with you, Chief," answered Owen, holding up his hands in blessing.
"Who is God ?" asked the captain.
"Chief, He is the King I serve, and His word is between my lips." "Then pass on, Messenger of God, and deliver the word of God your King into the ears of my king, at his Great Place yonder.

Pass on riding the beast you have brought with you, for the way is rough; but your waggon, your oxen, and your servants, save this man only who is of the Children of Fire, must stay here in my keeping.

Fear not, Messenger, I will hold them safe." "I do not fear, Chief, there is honour in your eyes." ***** Some hours later, Owen, mounted on his mule, was riding through the gorge, a guard in front of and behind him, and with them carriers who had been sent to bear his baggage.

At his side walked his disciple John, and his face was sad.
"Why are you still afraid ?" asked Owen.
"Ah! father, because this is a place of fear.