The two friends sat talking all the evening, and at last Bakula said: “To-night I am going to escape to the white man’s station. He will heal my scalded arm, and teach me God’s palaver.”
“Wait until the morning,” pleaded Tumbu. “Don’t travel in the dark, or the evil spirits will throttle and squeeze the life out of you.”
“Who talks about evil spirits?” asked Bakula. "Only the ‘medicine men,’ and perhaps what they tell us about them is as great a lie as their charms, fetishes and ordeals. I will test that to-night as I have tested their other teaching to-day." And a look of undaunted determination came into the brave fellow’s face, which, being seen by Tumbu in the flickering firelight, stopped his further arguments.
It was towards midnight that Bakula took farewell of his mother, and creeping from his house with stealthy steps, passed through the sleeping town and into the darkness of the silent, tangled, spirit-haunted bush. What lay before him? Would it always be the darkness, the tangled paths environed with fearful spirits? Or would he come into the light, that would show him the straight, clear road, and, chasing away the evil spirits of darkness, reveal the ministering angels of the white man’s God?
Chapter XX
Bakula at School
After much nursing Bakula recovers--He becomes a school-boy--He struggles with the alphabet--He learns to understand pictures--Routine life--Bakula itinerates with his white man--He does not relish sleeping in the wet bush--He is convicted of sin--He inquires the way of salvation--The lads play a trick on a witch-doctor--Bakula is received into the Church--He returns to his town.
After a long, weary walk Bakula reached his uncle’s town, and, staying only to tell him the news, and show him his scalded arm, continued his journey to the mission station. By the time he arrived he was feverish and his arm very painful. The missionary in charge of the medical work at once dressed the inflamed arm and put the exhausted lad to bed.
For many days Bakula was delirious, repeating with monotonous reiteration his innocence and the dipping of his arm in the boiling oil. At times the missionaries feared he would die; that the strain, the scalding, and the fatiguing walk would prove too much for him; but at last he began to recover--skilled treatment, regular food, and careful attention triumphed; and the lad was in due time walking about, little the worse, except for the scars on his arm, for the ordeal through which he had passed.
Photo] THE REV. JOHN H. WEEKS AND HIS BOYS. [Rev. J. H. Weeks.