Time passed, and I had five catechists in the field. At last some of the catechumens were ready to be baptized. Then the church was organized at Ayol, with fourteen members. They were not likely to confound the church of Christ with any mere building made with hands; for as yet there was no building. We organized the church and held the first communion service in the street. The second communion service was held in another town called Makwena, Ndong Koni’s town, where his uncle was chief. The Christians of Makwena had built a beautiful chapel of bamboo, with doors and windows on hinges. Ndong Koni had worked in the yard at Baraka in order to buy those doors and windows for the church. [Illustration: THREE FANG BOYS. _After several years in the school; also among the first Christians._] On the occasion of this second communion service I spent the preceding Saturday in going to Ayol and several other widely separated towns with the _Dorothy_, gathering the people for the service. Early Sunday morning I pulled into Makwena with sixty people in the launch, on top of it, and in a big canoe behind. They were singing hymns, and singing them beautifully, for there were enough of my schoolboys there to take the parts. Between the hymns they occupied the time with the praises of _Dorothy_, the like of which, for comfort and for speed, they had never dreamed of. Upon our arrival a large number of people came down to welcome their fellow Christians. They wore more clothing than the whole town had formerly possessed. These Christians were of various tribes who in former times had been continually at war with each other. And I could imagine such a company coming together and making the little river run red like crimson with each other’s blood. But now they were all saluting each other as, “Brother” and “Sister”; and there was such hand-shaking and social palaver that it scarcely seemed possible there could be so much happiness in that land of cruelty and tears. And as I reflected that these were but the first-fruits of a great harvest, all the labour, the trials, the perils, the sickness of the years that had passed seemed as nothing. Among those who were baptized that day I distinctly recall a certain old woman who had probably lived long enough to have experienced all the evils and the suffering of heathenism. Her face was almost beautiful with the light of joy that shone in her eyes. Her paltry garment was so scrappy and so scanty that I wondered whether there was enough of it to meet the requirements of propriety. But when she came into the service she was dressed in a pure white robe that came up to her shoulders and reached to her feet, and was held with a black sash.