"I’ll tell you what I am going to advise Captain Brentham to do, Lucy," said Mrs. Stott. "Come what may, you’ll be none the worse for a good rest here. This place is evidently far healthier than the lower country. The Consul shall bargain with your Masai guides to go as fast as they can back to Ulunga and find out what has happened at Hangodi. If things are still quiet there, the probability is they are going to remain quiet. In that case—if your husband does not absolutely forbid it, Captain Brentham ought to take you back to Hangodi and leave you there. He can then find his own way _somehow_ to the place he lives at—Medina. If the messengers come back with _bad_ news about the Arabs, or if John Baines positively vetoes your returning, _then_ all you can do is to put yourself under the Consul’s care and travel with him to Mvita ... unless you like to stop with me and live on country produce. I think we can—whilst you’re waiting here—get in touch with the Masai beyond the mountains and by giving them a present induce them to guide you to the Kilimanjaro country, to one of the mission stations there—Evangelical or Methodist, don’t matter which. After that all would be plain sailing, for I don’t believe the Arabs of the British sphere are going to rise." When in the evening of that day, by the light of a camp fire—they had practically no artificial light—Mrs. Stott put this plan before Roger, he promptly agreed. It would show he had done the right thing. It would go far to save Lucy’s good name, especially among Mission folk. And it would give him nearly a month to stay and explore the Happy Valley. He had spent much of the day with James Stott helping him in his work on the embryo station, and Stott had told him of wonderful things he had seen or had gleaned from native information. There was the new lake to survey roughly; there was a paradise of big game to shoot in. Here Mrs. Stott intervened: "I hope you and my husband will go slow as regards shooting. I know we must have the meat and we’re so nearly bankrupt at the coast that a few tusks of ivory would come in handy. But somehow I should like to think of this Happy Valley as a sort of preserved zoological gardens where all these innocent creatures of God’s handiwork——" "I shouldn’t call a rhinoceros innocent, Mrs. Stott," said Roger, smoking his pipe with such contentment as he had not known for months—"I have rather a tender conscience about antelopes and zebras, but rhinos attack you absolutely unprovoked...." _Mrs. Stott_: "Only because men began humbugging them first of all, long ago, I expect. However, if ever I lived to see our mission stations self-supporting and growing all the food they needed, I’d never let James fire another shot at the game."