"You know we are _never_ down-hearted; we _know_ God orders everything for the best! I am sure He thought we were settling down too comfortably among the Wagogo, and so gave us a hint to press farther into the interior. _Of course_, when things quiet down: for either the Germans or the English _must_ conquer East Africa: it would be sickening to leave the Arabs and Ruga-ruga in control—we shall build up again our Burungi station and put capable people in charge of it, people who’ll get on well with the Wagogo.... They want a bit of managing. You see how well it would suit as a halt on the way to this wonderful country—What do you call it? ’The Happy Valley’? Yes, _that_ shall be its name. _How_ the Lord’s ways are _past_ finding out! I felt _so_ sick at heart when we were leaving Burungi.... I’ll tell you how it all happened. Our Masai friends had beaten off the Ruga-ruga, but the Wagogo thought they intended to return, probably with real Arabs in command. My husband is obliged to shoot game; otherwise we couldn’t live, much less feed our people. They raided us chiefly for arms and ammunition.... We beat them off, but the Wagogo thought they would be sure to return—much stronger next time. So after thinking it over and putting our case before God in prayer we decided that night after the attack ceased, to spend the hours of darkness packing. The next morning we bought ten more donkeys from the Masai, besides the ten we had already, loaded them up and then said to our Masai friends—my husband speaks Masai pretty well: ’Now, can you guide us to some country where we can be safe from the Lajomba—their name for the Arabs—for a time?’ And they led us here ... let us say, rather, they were God’s agents in leading us here. Isn’t this a _wonderful_ country? We have never seen the like. Somehow we feel so _safe_ here. You can’t think of any enemy coming over those high mountains—one of them has snow on the summit—or over the cliffs. They can only come up the river valley. And to do that they must fight their way through the Rangi and Fiome peoples. The Rangi people speak a language like Chi-gogo, and so—oddly enough—do the fisher folk round this extraordinary lake. But the others don’t look like ordinary Negroes. They are more like Somalis. And I can’t make anything out of their language. But although they’re different to the Masai they seem to have some kind of alliance with them, and they received us here as friends, because the Masai brought us. _What_ a field for the Lord’s work! And to think I almost _doubted_ God when He let the Ruga-ruga attack Burungi!... "But here we are, at our temporary home, and I must go to the cook-house and see about your meal. You won’t mind native stuff, will you? You see we’ve lost most of our tinned provisions, and indeed we had been living on the country long before the Ruga-ruga attacked us. Like all the other missionaries of late we’ve had very few caravans from the coast."