"It will be a bit of a shock to them," said Tamate to his friends,
"to see this launch. We will give them time to get their wits together
again."

Looking ahead through their glasses, the white men and Mrs. Abel could
see canoes swiftly crossing and re-crossing the river and men rushing
about.

"Full speed ahead," cried Tamate again, and then after a few
revolutions of the engine, "Go slow. It will never do," he said, "to
drop amongst them while they are in that state. They will settle down
presently." And then, as he looked up at the sky between the waving
branches of the giant trees, "we have got a good two hours' daylight
yet," he said.

Life and death to Tamate and his friends hung in the balance, for
they were three people unarmed, and here were dark savage warriors in
hundreds. Everything depended on his choosing just the right moment
for going into the midst of these people. So he watched them closely,
knitting his shaggy eyebrows together as he measured their state of
mind by their actions. He was the Scout of Christ in Papua, and he
must be watchful and note all those things that escape most men but
mean so much to trained eyes. Tamate seemed to have a strange gift
that made him able, even where other men could tell nothing, to say
exactly when it was, and when it was not, possible to go among a wild,
untouched tribe.

Now the bewildered Ialan savages had grown quieter. Tamate called to
the engineer to drive ahead once more. Slowly the launch forged her