“There’s my brother Stephnos and old Uncle Paulos and heaps more people. I’ve got lots of friends.” I breathed a distinct sigh of relief. I didn’t mind taking trouble about salving people’s daughters or sisters or mere friends. “Oh, Harilek. You said you thought you were meant to find me. What did you mean? Who meant it?” “Who meant it? Why, who could mean a thing like that except one person? God, of course.” “Did you say God or the gods?” “God. We only believe in one. How many do you believe in?” “We only believe in one, although some of our people believe in many, a thing that brings strife sometimes. My father says part of the Shamans’ enmity comes from this, since they believe in many very evil gods.” This was a bit of a surprise. I had hardly expected to find monotheists in this country. It was fairly clear that these people were some old prehistoric survival of the original white races, and could hardly have received Mohammedanism. Anyway, Aryenis’s independence showed clearly that the tents of Islam had not reached her country when they had swamped the greater part of Central Asia. “But, Harilek, you say you only believe in one. How is He called?” She seemed very interested. “Just God. But if you can understand, we also believe that He had a son Christ, who came into the world in the guise of a man--” “But,” she said excitedly, “then you are Christians even as we are!” I could hardly believe my ears. It is true that there are scattered Nestorian Christians in Chinese Turkestan, but how on earth could these isolated people be Christians! I turned round to Aryenis in bewilderment. “You seem surprised.” “So are you, Aryenis.” “Well, it is _rather_ wonderful. I think--with you, Harilek--that all this must be meant.” She was silent for a minute. Then she went on. “Are all of you Christians? The doctor and the other, and the darker-faced men?” “The darker-faced men are not, though they also believe in one God, but they do not believe in Christ, saying that He was only a great prophet, not God. My two friends are Christians by birth, but the doctor says that such things are beyond him, and he will not believe in anything he cannot see or handle and prove for himself. Wrexham--the stout man you saw for a minute last night--believes in God, I think, but he pretends he is not sure, and so, like many people, from wanting to be quite sure of everything, he is not even sure of not believing.” “That must be very sad for him.” “It is, since he is such a good man. However, if we get to heaven we shall find him and lots more up above us, all right, for all the good things they have done so much better than we who, knowing more, should be better than they.” “True, Harilek. You, like me, are clearly a believer in the faith. I am more than glad.” We were silent a little after that, and then she asked where Wrexham was, so I told her what he was doing, and how he had tried to get the old chief’s body back to bury.