The chief was listening intently to the story of the Dyak who saw the dead man totter and fall. He gave some quick order. Followed by a score or more of his men he walked rapidly to the foot of the cliff where they found the lifeless body.
And Iris read—
"Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day."
Jenks stole one more hasty glance at her. The chief and the greater number of his followers were out of sight behind the rocks. Some of them must now be climbing to that fatal ledge. Was this the end?
Yet the girl, unconscious of the doom impending, kept her eyes steadfastly fixed on the book.
"For He shall give His angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.
"They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone....
"He shall call upon me, and I will answer him: I will be with him in trouble: I will deliver him and honour him."
Iris did not apply the consoling words to herself. She closed the book and bent forward sufficiently in her sheltering niche to permit her to gaze with wistful tenderness upon the man whom she hoped to see delivered and honored. She knew he would dare all for her sake. She could only pray and hope. After reading those inspired verses she placed implicit trust in the promise made. For He was good: His was the mercy that "endureth forever." Enemies encompassed them with words of hatred—fought against them without a cause—but there was One who should "judge among the heathen" and "fill the places with dead bodies."
Suddenly a clamor of discordant yells fell upon her ears. Jenks rose to his knees. The Dyaks had discovered their refuge and were about to open fire. He offered them a target lest perchance Iris were not thoroughly screened.