years, now partly bare and partly green stood before her. At this sea son all the other pear trees had fruit on their limbs. This oiie seemed to say to her, “ Like you, no fruit.” Helen shook her head as if to clear it from these thoughts. There is a time in every missionary’s life when such thoughts come. But she remembered old Professor Geddings once said, “ Just be careful that doubts don’t stay too long. You may be sure that Satan’s lurking nearby waiting to trap you into believing his doubts.” She glanced around as though she expected to see the Devil himself standing beside her. At the ridiculousness of it all she suddenly laughed aloud, saying, “ Lord, even now I’m on this path doing your will. Give me complete victory over Satan’s thrusts. It was all done at Calvary; help me to take hold of the victory He won there.” Suddenly she heard a faint groan. She stopped and listened to deter mine the direction of it. Again she heard the sound, louder this time. It seemed to be coming from along side of her. That was absurd for nothing was there but a tiny pine scrub growing along the edge of the cliff. Carefully she stepped to the edge and looked down toward the gorge and into the pain-filled eyes of a young Indian who lay bleeding on a narrow ledge about 10 feet below the path where she stood. “ Na-ha-la,” Helen breathed, “ the chief’s young son. How can I reach him?” Then she remembered see ing a narrow ledge only three or four feet below this path at the point where the path started up the mountain. If only it were the same ledge or one near enough to reach the one on which he lay. “ Stay there and I’ll get help,” she cried as she rain back down the mountain to the first ledge. Sitting on the edge of the slope she jumped easily the short distance down to the narrow ledge below. There was just enough footing space for her to carefully inch her way around the gradually sloping ledge. A slip now might mean a several hundred foot drop to the floor of the gorge. As she rounded the curve of the mountain she saw that she was on the same ledge as Na-ha-la. The young Indian was unconscious when she reached him. Her experi-
JUNIOR KING ’S BUSINESS edited by Martha. S. Hooker
The Narrow ledge Adventure By Hazel Ward Hoffman
come, for Chief Nawah’s tribe still believes in all the old ways of the Indians — charms, medicine men and praying to strange gods. She had walked to where the trail forked. She knew that if she took the path to the right she would be at the mission in 10 minutes. The left path was narrower, lead ing up into the hills and across a rope bridge over the gorge. It would take her a full hour to get home that way. An undecided feeling came over her. The sensible thing for her to do would be to take the path to the right. W hy was she hesitating anyway? There really was no choice to make. But a still small voice whispered, “ Go to the left.” Hesitating only long enough to pray, “ O God, give me strength,” she started up the left path. It was a beautiful day. The thrushes and warblers chattered gaily. But with each step she heard the words, “Would it have made any differ ence if I had not come?” An old pear tree, worn by the
“Me not want to know this ‘strange God’ you talk about,” Chief Nawah most decidedly told Helen Coverly, a missionary to the North American Indians. He was feeling strong and well again after a night spent in much pain. Wearily Helen turned and left the chief’s dirty lit tle hut. As she trudged along the path, her thoughts turned back to the" n igh t spent p r a y in g that through this illness the chief would come to believe in the Lord Jesus Christ. She thought, too, of the time she had devoted to spreading the gospel. Three years ago God had called her to serve Him on the mission field. At that time she had a good job as a nurse in Dr. Baxter’s office. “ Lord,” she said, “ I want you to have first place in my life; I’ll go wherever you want me to.” Then she went to Bible school for two years, and dining that time God called her to win Indians to Him. “W hy am I here?” Helen now asked herself. “ It doesn’t seem to have made any difference that I’ve
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The King's Busfness/July 1958
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