the Gikhi is alive, I am going to stay and care for him—that is, if he will let me.”
“You are a good girl, Zell,” Marion whispered, as she placed her arm lovingly around her companion and drew her close to her. “I wish you could go with me when I leave this country. I shall miss you very much.”
“And will you go away, Miss?” Zell asked. “Oh, how can I get along without you? You have been so good to me. I shall never forget you.”
Shortly before the appointed time for service, the missionary was up and eager to reach the building. He partook of a little food, and when well wrapped in his big fur coat, he was assisted by Hugo and the doctor out of the house and across the open. He stepped out bravely at first, but by the time the church was reached he was very weak. He smiled as he entered the building, which was filled with natives, some being forced to stand. He walked slowly up the aisle, and when he reached the little vestry, he sank down upon a small bench against the wall. He was determined to wear his robes, and Marion, who had followed, assisted him with his long white surplice, which came almost to his feet.
“My stole, my stole; don’t forget that,” he reminded. “There it is hanging on that peg. The Indians always like to see me fully robed.”
He was trembling with excitement as he made his way out of the vestry into the chancel. Here he knelt down, and when he had risen to his feet, he announced a hymn, and in a quavering voice started the tune in the native language. The Indians followed, and soon all were singing in the heartiest manner. To Marion this was all very wonderful, and she knew that the
