He found that he was speaking to the air, the white and lonely mist. Suddenly, without a word of answer, his strange conductors had melted away--withdrawn and vanished. He was alone on a mountain-top in Wales, surrounded by an impenetrable curtain of mist, unable to move in any direction. What was all this? Was he the victim of some colossal trick, some cruel hoax, some immense and indefensible practical joke? It was difficult to believe it, and yet he cursed his folly in accepting this strange invitation to Wales. What a foolish and unconsidered business it all seemed--now that he sat alone in the white stillness, the terrible solitude. Still, mad as the action seemed to him now, he remembered that it was the result of a long chain of coincidences. Certainly--yes, of that there could be no doubt--he seemed to have been led to this place. Something stronger than himself had influenced him. No, he was not here by chance-- Had he fallen asleep? Still he sat upon the lichen-covered boulder, still the grey curtain of the mist hid all the mountain world. Yet what was that sound--that deep, ringing voice which sounded in his ears, falling from some distant height, falling through the air like an arrow? A voice! A voice! And these were the words it chanted-- "Rise up, Joseph, and come to me! Fear not, for God is with you! Come to me, that the things that are appointed may be done!" The great voice rolled through the mist like a cathedral bell. Cold and trembling, Joseph rose to his feet. One hand rested against the granite rock to support him as he answered, in a loud cry of terror-- "Who are you? What is this? Are you the man Lluellyn? I cannot come. I know not where to come. I am too weak to move. I am frightened." Again the organ voice came pealing through the gloom. "Joseph, Joseph, rise up and come! Come and fear not, for the power of the Holy Ghost broods upon the mountains." Joseph stood for a moment trembling, and swaying from side to side. Then he was conscious of the most extraordinary sensation of his life. Through the mist, invisible, impalpable, a great current of FORCE seemed flowing to him and around him. It poured into every fibre of his being, body, mind, and soul alike. It was not a delusion. It was wonderfully, marvellously real. Each second he grew stronger, power returned to his tired limbs, the weariness left his brain. He called out aloud-- "Teacher, I am coming to you!" And, with the swinging, easy step of a man in perfect health, together with the ease and certainty of a practised mountaineer, he began to climb upward through the mist. It was as though he was floating on air, buoyant as a bird is. On and on he went, and all the while the invisible electric force poured into him and gave him strength and power.