Some one threw a broken piece of brick,
another a stone. Mackay turned and faced them, and for a few
moments they seemed cowed. But the crowd was increasing, and he
deemed it wise to move on. So the two marched out of the town
followed by stones and curses. And, as they went, Mackay reminded
A Hoa of what they had been reading the night before.
"Yes," said A Hoa brightly. "The Lord was driven out of his own
town in Galilee."
"Yes, and Paul--you remember how he was stoned. Our Master counts
us worthy to suffer for him." But where to go was the question.
Before they could decide, night came down upon them, and it came
in that sudden tropical way to which Mackay, all his life
accustomed to the long mellow twilights of his northern home,
could never grow accustomed. They each took a torch out of the
carrier's bag, lighted it, and marched bravely on. The path led
along the Kelung river, through tall grass. They were not sure
where it led to, but thought it wise to follow the river; they
would surely come to Kelung some time. Mackay was ahead, A Hoa
right at his heels, and behind them the basket-bearer.
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