_Anderson_: "And I say the same. You’ve both spoken like jolly good Englishmen. And—er—let’s trust in the Lord, brethren. _He’ll_ see us through, He won’t leave His servants in the lurch. To think of all the work we’ve put into this place and all the money what’s been spent on it! What are we going to do with our trade goods if we cut and run? The Consul can’t load himself up with them—and our ivory and gum copal..." _Brentham_: "I might mention here I can only spare about twenty-five porters for the whole five of you. We must travel as lightly as possible, especially if the Stotts want help. They have young children, I believe." _Anderson_: "Then I vote we stop. Let the women go. It wouldn’t be right to expose them to the risk.... Ann, what do you say?" _Ann_: "I say this. Let Sister Baines go to the coast. She’s always ailing and would only be a drag on us if we were hard-pressed. But for my part I stay with the men, at any rate till things have calmed down. _I’m_ not afraid. I’ll soon learn to handle a rifle, and I’m pretty good at dressing wounds. And there’s my class of girls. It’d pretty nigh break my heart if I went away and they came to grief after all that training I’ve given them—to make them good wives some day." _John_ (shortly and decidedly): "You can’t remain. I’ve already told you why. In this matter you must bow to my authority. Lucy in any case is too ill to stay here—under these circumstances—and it is common humanity that you should not let her travel alone to the coast. When our anxiety is over, you and she can come back...." (Ann: "Thank you for nothing!") "Well, sir, you shall know our definite decision in the morning. Meantime you must be tired, very tired indeed. We thank you heartily for coming to our assistance. I’m sure you’d like now to retire." (Brentham withdraws.) "Brethren, before we separate let us put our case before God, that He may guide us aright...." The next morning the decisive answer tendered to the Consul was that the men would remain and defend their station. Sisters Baines and Jamblin should return to the coast with Consul Brentham. Lucy forgot all about her anæmia and weak back and tendency to dizziness in an excited packing up of necessaries for the journey. She would not have to take with her more than her clothes and a few invalid’s provisions and appliances. She felt terribly elated, wildly happy at times. No thought of danger entered her head—how could it, with Roger as escort? At the same time, the sight of poor John’s silent grief—too deep for words—smote her with reproachfulness; and Ann’s scornful observation of her moments of sparkling gaiety seemed sinister.