The Forest Refuge—Voalavo is War-like, Ravonino Peaceful, and False Friends Dangerous.  
We change the scene, now, to the profoundest recesses of the tangled forest. Here, in the deep shadow cast by the over-arching trees, two native girls wandered out at an early hour one morning to converse about things that interested them deeply—if the varying aspects of their expressive faces were any index to their thoughts. One was tall, dark, majestic in mien and grave of countenance. The other was comparatively fair, of small stature, and evidently of lively yet timid disposition. Need we say that they were Ramatoa, the sister of Laihova, and Ra-Ruth, the sister of Ravonino?
 
“I fear they will never return to us,” said Ra-Ruth, laying her hand on her friend’s arm.
 
“Say not so,” replied Ramatoa, “we know not what blessings our God has in store for us. Only this we are sure of, that all things will work together for our good.”
 
“But the Queen is so cruel!” objected her little friend. “When her anger is roused she will do anything. Besides, has not the messenger told us that the soldiers have been sent in hundreds over the country to search for Christians, and spies are about everywhere. Laihova, too, has been separated from them, he says. Perhaps he has been caught.”
 
“I like not this messenger,” said the other, with a touch of sternness in her look and tone. “He seems to me like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He does not refer all things to God as ‘Our Father,’ and in his use of the Word he does not seem sincere. I trust that he is not one of the spies.”
 
As she spoke her companion uttered a quick exclamation. There was a rustling in the bushes, and next moment, Laihova, springing out, clasped Ra-Ruth in his arms.
 
“Thank God,” he said, in deep earnest tones, as he released her. “I am not too late!”
 
“Brother,” said Ramatoa, anxiously, laying a hand on the man’s arm, “are you alone?”
 
“Yes. Have not Ravoninohitriniony and Rafaravavy arrived?”
 
“No. And—and what of Mamba?” asked Ramatoa.
 
An expression of profound sadness crossed the features of Laihova. Dropping his eyes on the ground he stood silent. For a few moments his sister did not speak, but her breast heaved with suppressed emotion. At last she asked in a low voice—
 
“Has he been martyred?”
 
“No—he is not dead. But—he is condemned to slavery in chains for life.”
 
Terrible though this fate was, the news of it evidently conveyed a measure of relief to Ramatoa, for it assured her that her lover was at all events not dead. Where there is life there is hope!
 
“I fear this will kill his mother,” she said. “Poor Reni-Mamba is so full of love and gentleness, and her sorrows have been very heavy. Strange that her husband and son should share the same fate—perpetual slavery! Yet it is not perpetual. Death will set them free. Come to the cave and let us break the sad news.”
 
As they walked through the forest Ramatoa gave her brother a rapid outline of what had occurred since the day he left.
 
“They will be deeply grieved,” she said, “that our friends are not with you. We had all hoped that you would arrive together. A messenger who has just come did indeed tell us that you had been separated from them, but all supposed that you would easily overtake them.”
 
“True, sister, but I over-shot them. That has been the way of it,” returned Laihova, regretfully.
 
“Still, I feel sure that they will escape,” continued the girl, “Ravoninohitriniony has such a firm trust in God, and he is so strong and brave and wise. Besides, he has the blood of the white man in his veins—he will succeed or die!”
 
This compliment to her brother, whether deserved or not, had the effect of raising a flush of pleasure on Ra-Ruth’s little face.
 
“Many things have happened since you left us,” resumed Ramatoa. “Razafil, the poet, has come to stay with us, and Voalavo too.”
 
“Voalavo!” exclaimed Laihova in surprise, “is he not the chief of a tribe that does not love Jesus? And he was not a Christian when I saw him last.”
 
“He is a Christian now,” returned the girl, quietly, “if I may judge him by his works. He has been our main stay since you went away. Not long after you left us he came, saying that you had told him about Jesus delivering men from the power of sin, and he wanted to know about Him. You may be sure we were glad to tell him all we knew. He has never said he is a Christian, but he has stayed with us ever since, and hunted for us. He is as active as the youngest men in getting and bringing in wild fruits, and the youths are glad to have his wisdom and advice. He listens to us while we sing, and he prays in secret—I know that he does, for I have overheard him. Moreover, he has brought some of his people over to our side. He seems to be particularly fond of Reni-Mamba, and she is fond of him—for he is funny.”
 
“Yes; he is very funny,” responded Laihova, with profound gravity.
 
On reaching the cavern which we have described in a former chapter, they found that most of the men were out, and the women were busy with those culinary labours which tend to rejoice the hearts of hunters when they return home.
 
The chief, Voalavo, was there, however, deeply engaged in studying—yes, studying—The Pilgrim’s Progress! But he could not make much of it, his education—at the hands of Ra-Ruth—having commenced only a few weeks before. Besides teaching the chief his letters, Ra-Ruth had read to him large portions of the book, which had so fascinated him that he had applied himself to his letters with a will, and, being an able man, had begun to make rapid progress. His desire, also, to be able to read the Bible—when he began to understand what it was, and to perceive the significance of some of its soul-stirring words—stimulated his active mind to greater exertions.
 
The unfortunate poet, Razafil, also fell in with the wonderful allegory in that cave for the first time, and it helped in no small degree to turn his mind from brooding over the fate of his dear martyred daughter Raniva. His mind was quicker than that of the chief to perceive the grand truths which underlie the story, and he was not a little comforted. Thus these two men, so very differently constituted, sat at the feet of the fair Ra-Ruth, who being, as we have said, timid and rather distrustful of herself, was overjoyed to find that even she could help in advancing the cause of her Lord.
 
But it rather perplexed the little maiden when these same men, having been gifted with inquiring minds, puzzled themselves over the question why the Prince of the country in The Pilgrim’s Progress did not kill Apollyon at once and have done with him.
 
“Or make him good,” suggested Voalavo.
 
“True, that would have been better, perhaps, than killing him,” assented Razafil.
 
Like millions of the human race before them, the two men got out of their depth here; but unlike too many thousands of the same race, they did not permit such di............