Before he retired to his own bed of boughs, the young missionary
sang that grand old anthem which these lonely woods and their
savage inhabitants had never yet heard:

All people that on earth do dwell,
Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice.

But these poor people could not "sing to the Lord," for they had
never yet so much as heard his name.

All night the missionary lay on the ground, finding the chill
mountain air too cold for sleep, and whenever he looked out from
his shelter of boughs he saw hundreds of savage eyes, gleaming in
the firelight, still wide open and fixed upon him.

Day broke late in the valley, but the travelers were astir in the
morning twilight. The mountain-tops were touched with rosy light
even while it was dark down in these forest depths.

The chilled white men were glad to get up and exercise their
stiffened limbs. There were several of their party who could
speak both Chinese and the dialect of these mountaineers, and
through them Mackay persuaded the chief of the tribe to take them
to visit his village.

He seemed reluctant at first and there was much discussion with
his braves. Evidently they were more anxious to go on a head-hunt
than to act the part of hosts. However, after a great deal of
chatter, they consented, and the chief and his son with thirty