and chased them away. "It is getting dark," he
said. "They are only little green things; they must not be out late." It
was broad daylight then, and would be for another hour. Some coolies
passing that way stopped to look at us; but before they had time to get
interested they too remarked that darkness was coming, and they must be
off, and off they went.

We were left alone after that. Within five minutes' walk were at least
five hundred souls, redeemed, but they don't know it; redeemed, _but
they don't want to know it_. Sometimes they seem to want to know, but
however tenderly you tell it, the keen Hindu mind soon perceives the
drift of it all--Redemption must mean loss of Caste. One day last week I
was visiting in the Village of the Red Lake. Standing in one of its
courtyards you see the Western Ghauts rising straight up behind. The Red
Lake lies at the mountain foot; we call it Derwentwater, but there are
palms and bamboos, and there is no Friar's Crag.

That afternoon I was bound for a house in the centre of the village,
when an old lady called me to come to her house, and I followed her
gladly. There were six or eight women all more or less willing to
listen; among them were two who were very old. Old people in India are
usually too attached to their own faith, or too utterly stupid and dull,
to care to hear about another; but this old lady had been stirred to
something almost like active thought by the recent death of a relative,
and she felt that she needed something more than she had to make her
ready for death. She was apparently devout. Ashes were marked on her
brow and arms, and she wore a very large rosary. It is worn to
accumulate merit. I did not refer to it as I talked, but in some dim way
she seemed to feel it did not fit with what I was saying, for, with
trembling hands, she took it off and threw it to a child. I hoped this
meant something definite, and tried to lead her to Jesus. But as soon as
she understood Who He was, she drew back. "I cannot be a disciple of
your Guru, here," she said; "would my relations bear such defilement?"
Being a Christian really meant sooner or later leaving her home and all
her people for ever. Can you wonder an old lady of perhaps seventy-five
stopped at that?

The little children in the Village of the Warrior are not allowed to
learn. The men of the place have consulted and come to the decision. The
chill of it has struck the little ones, and they do not care to run th