The leader put both hands into his pockets. "Well, this beats me!" he said. His companions expected that now Mary Slessor's hour had come. Instead, he turned on them furiously. "Go on in!" he commanded, and into the meeting filed the whole party. It was not this time that Mary was afraid. * * * * * In far-off Calabar in Africa in the deep woods there was a stir. Dawn was not yet complete, though there was a grayish light over everything and a pink glow in the eastern sky. The trees were tall, the foliage dark, and here and there were gorgeous flowers. Now and then a parrot or a monkey chattered high up on the branches. Near by flowed a beautiful stream, overshadowed by thick foliage and edged by blooming water-lilies. So far everything was beautiful. But in the deep thickets there were sounds which were not beautiful, the angry shouts of harsh, human voices. Advancing through the bushes were many black men, wearing almost no clothing, but armed to the teeth. They carried knives in their belts and spears and guns in their hands. Their black eyes glittered, their teeth gleamed, they panted for breath. They were on the war-path, and they looked as terrible as charging beasts of prey. They were a tribe of the Okoyong country, going to meet in battle another tribe, a member of which had injured their chief. Nothing one would have said could stay them. Suddenly they heard a sound of advancing footsteps and a shrill call. They tightened their grasp on their weapons. Was the enemy at hand? Then up and at him! But it was not an enemy; the voice was not that of a warrior; it was that of a woman. It was not even that of a woman of Okoyong; it was that of a white woman. "Stop!" it called, in the language of the Okoyong. "Stop! Listen to me!" There came into view a little woman who looked, in spite of the passing of many years, like the girl who had defied the boys in Queen Street. She was not much taller and certainly no stouter. Her hair was bobbed like a boy's, and this made her look much as she had long ago. It was undoubtedly Mary Slessor. She advanced rapidly, running over the ground in bare feet. One could not keep one's shoes dry in the damp grass, and it was better to go unshod. [Illustration: A WEST COAST AFRICAN VILLAGE Living in a native mud hut, eating the same sort of food, and sharing their every-day life, Mary Slessor became the beloved "White Queen of Okoyong."] "Stop!" she called again. "Listen to me!" "Ma is coming!" said a dozen angry voices. "She needn't think she can stop us with any of her peace talk!" "Disgrace has been put upon us," said another. "We must have vengeance." The warriors shook their heads impatiently. They would listen, but they would not obey. The little figure came nearer and nearer and stood at last regarding them.