"Who's the big man on MacKay's left?" asked Sinclair, who wanted some one to confirm his own impressions.
"It looks like MacAllister," replied Boville. "Yes, it is MacAllister. I can see him plainly now that she has swung to starboard. I wonder what is bringing him back to Formosa."
"Lord, what shall I do to entertain him? ... I haven't a thing to eat fit to offer a white man.... 'Pon my soul, I haven't!" spluttered De Vaux.
Sinclair and the consul glanced at each other understandingly, and the latter said:
"Make your mind easy about that, De Vaux. With your permission I shall be glad to entertain Mr. MacAllister. I have a little foreign chow left. My wife will probably have sent some more by this boat."
With tears of joy, shrill cries of welcome, and exclamations of thankfulness the natives received their pastor.
No less gladly, but hiding their feelings under jest and laughter, the Britons welcomed their countrymen. In the midst of the handshaking Beauchamp said:
"Mr. MacAllister, you will be my guest this time. Come away up to the consulate."
With a brief word or two in an undertone to Sinclair, the consul led his guest away. After a cheery laugh and an exchange of banter with McLeod, the doctor climbed the steep hill with MacKay and his converts to the former's house.
Twenty minutes later he looked from the verandah and saw the consul and Mr. MacAllister coming. The latter's face was pale as death. He was stooping forward and trembling as if with palsy. But he was covering the ground with such strides that the consul, in spite of his agility, was almost running to keep pace with him. As he drew near the verandah the father broke into a run, and his trembling hands caught Sinclair's: