That evening, when it was time for the natives' feeding, the men gathered about. Little by little the feeding had become a ritual, and they would often go out to watch it. It was always the same. Renner would step forward away from the others a little way, the load of food in his hands. The natives would come to stand before him in their ragged line, their leader a trifle to the front. There they would bow, and begin a chant that had become a part of the ritual with the passing time. With the first green planting showing, there was a look of deep satisfaction in Renner's eyes as he stepped forward this night. His hair had grown quite long by now, and his white beard blew softly in the constant wind. There was a simple dignity about him as he stood there, his head erect, and looked upon the natives as his children. The natives began their chant. It became louder. "Tolava--" they said, and bowed. As usual, Farrow was nettled. "What does the man want anyway?" he asked out loud. "To be God?" Renner could not help but hear him. He did not turn his head. "David!" he said. "Sir?" David asked, stepping forward. "You understand their language now, don't you?" Renner asked. "Yes, sir," David said. "Then translate!" Renner ordered. "Out loud, please, so that the others may hear!" "Tolava--" the natives chanted, bowing. "Tolava--our father," David said, following the chant. Suddenly he swallowed, and hesitated for a moment. Then he straightened himself, and went sturdily on. "Tolava--our father--who art from the heavens--give us--this day--our bread!" THE END Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from _Amazing Stories_ November 1959. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.