By this time other worshippers had begun to gather and were thronging round the minister in little clusters. From the looks cast in my direction I knew that I was the object of more than one inquiry, and while my recent companion went forward to greet some other of the worshippers, I hung back a little shamefacedly. Seeing my hesitation the minister beckoned me, and when I came near he placed a hand upon my shoulder and said: "My friends, here is the prodigal. He has eaten of the husks of the swine, but, I think, he has at last set his foot on the road to his Father’s house." It was a strange introduction, received in silence by the little group, and with a mounting colour I looked at the people and they looked at me. There was a glint of challenge in the eyes of some of the men and a hint of suspicion in others. The older women looked at me with something I took for pity; the younger ones pretended not to look at all. The silence was embarrassing, but it was broken by the minister who said: "And now, my friends, it is time to begin our service. Will you take your places?" and turning to me he said, "Young man, I think ye’d better come and sit near the pulpit, where I can see that ye behave yersel’!" In silence, and with a demure sobriety as though they were crossing the threshold of a holy place, they stepped across the dip in the amphitheatre and seated themselves upon the stones laid ready for them. I walked behind the minister towards his pulpit. A couple of paces from it he stopped and raised his right hand high above his head. On the top of the hill that faced us I saw one of the sentinels spring erect and hold his hand aloft, and turning, we saw that the sentinel on the other hill top had made a like signal. It was a sign that all was well, and that the service might safely begin. The minister mounted his pulpit and I sat down a little below it. In a voice which rang melodiously through the silence he said: "Let us worship God by singing to His praise the 121st psalm." He read the psalm from beginning to end and then the congregation, still sitting, took up the refrain and sang slowly the confident words. It was a psalm which to these hill-folk must have been charged with many memories. There was more of earnestness than of melody in the singing, but suddenly I was aware of one voice that sounded clear and bell-like among the jumble of raucous notes. My ears guided my eyes and I was able to pick the singer out. *CHAPTER XI* *FLOWER O’ THE HEATHER*