Once his name was mentioned, it was acclaimed by all. He was the very man, they said, bold, determined, filled with a Jesuit’s fiery zeal (although it need scarcely be explained that he hated Jesuits as a cat does mustard), one whom no witch-doctors would daunt, one, moreover, who being blessed with this world’s goods would ask no pay, but on the contrary would perhaps contribute a handsome sum towards the re-building of the church. This, it may be explained, as the Mission itself scarcely possessed a spare penny with which to bless itself, was a point that could not be overlooked. So Thomas was sent for and offered the post, after its difficulties and drawbacks had been fairly but diplomatically explained to him. He did not hesitate a minute, or at any rate five minutes; he took it at once, feeling that his call had come; also that it was the very thing for which he had been seeking. Up in that secluded spot in Portuguese Territory he would, he reflected, be entirely on his own, a sort of little bishop with no one to interfere with him, and able to have his own way about everything, which in more civilised regions he found he could not do. Here a set of older gentlemen, who were always appealing to their experience of natives, continually put a spoke into his wheel, bringing his boldest plans to naught. There it would be different. He would fashion his own wheel and grind the witch-doctor with his following to dust beneath its iron rim. He said that he would go at once, and what is more, he promised a donation of 1,000 pounds towards the rebuilding of the church and other burnt-out edifices. “That is very generous of Bull,” remarked the Dean when he had left the room. “Yes,” said another dignitary, “only I think that the undertaking must be looked upon as conditional. I understand, well, that the money belongs to Mrs. Bull.” “Probably she will endorse the bond as she is a liberal little woman,” said the Dean, “and in any case our brother Bull, if I may be pardoned a vulgarism, will knock the stuffing out of that pestilent Menzi and his crowd.” “Do you think so?” asked the other. “I am not so certain. I have met old Menzi, and he is a tough nut to crack. He may ‘knock the stuffing’ out of him. Bull, sound as he is, and splendid as he is in many ways, does not, it seems to me, quite understand natives, or that it is easier to lead them than to drive them.” “Perhaps not,” said the Dean, “but in the case of these Sisas it is rather a matter of Hobson’s choice, isn’t it?” So this affair was settled, and in due course Thomas received his letter of appointment as priest-in-charge of the Sisa station.