And now they were gathered on
the shore, and a long row of them linked hand in hand would rush down
the very beach upon which they had attacked Wilfrid, and would cast
themselves into the sea to get out of the awful agonies of their
hunger.
"Are there not fish in the sea for food?" asked Wilfrid.
"Yes, but we cannot catch them," they answered.
Wilfrid showed the wondering Men of the Shingle Beach how to make
large nets and then launched out in the little boats that they owned,
and let the nets down. For hour after hour Wilfrid and his companions
fished, while the savages watched them from the beach with hungry eyes
as the silver-shining fish were drawn gleaming and struggling into the
boats.
At last, as evening drew on, the nets were drawn in for the last time,
and Wilfrid came back to the beach with hundreds of fish in the boats.
With eager joy the Men of the Beach lit fires and cooked the fish.
Their hunger was stayed; the rain for which Wilfrid prayed came. They
were happy once more.
Then Wilfrid gathered them all around him on the beach and said words
like these:
"You men tried to kill me and my friends on this beach years ago,
trusting in your god of war. You _failed_. There is no god of war.
There is but one God, a God not of war, but of Love, Who sent His only
Son to tell about His love.
Pages:
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36