The Magnetic North. Elizabeth Robins

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СКАЧАТЬ again befoh our visitors arrive."

      "Mind what you're about, Mac," growled Potts. "You know he could lick the stuffin' out o' you."

      The ex-schoolmaster produced some sort of indignant sound in his throat and turned, as if he meant to go out. The Colonel came a little nearer. Mac flung up his head and squared for battle.

      Potts, in a cold sweat, dropped a lot of tinware with a rattle, while the Colonel said, "No, no. We'll settle this after the people go, Mac." Then in a whisper: "Look here: I've been trying to shield you for ten days. Don't give yourself away now—before the first white neighbour that comes to see us. You call yourself a Christian. Just see if you can't behave like one, for an hour or two, to a fellow-creature that's cold and hungry. Come, you're the man we've always counted on! Do the honours, and take it out of me after our guests are gone."

      Mac seemed in a haze. He sat down heavily on some beanbags in the corner; and when the newcomers were brought in and introduced, he "did the honours" by glowering at them with red eyes, never breaking his surly silence.

      "Well!" says Father Wills, looking about, "I must say you're very comfortable here. If more people made homes like this, there'd be fewer failures." They gave him the best place by the fire, and Potts dished up dinner. There were only two stools made yet. The Boy rolled his section of sawed spruce over near the priest, and prepared to dine at his side.

      "No, no," said Father Wills firmly. "You shall sit as far away from this splendid blaze as you can get, or you will have trouble with that cheek." So the Boy had to yield his place to O'Flynn, and join Mac over on the bean-bags.

      "Why didn't you get a parki when you were at St. Michael's?" said the priest as this change was being effected.

      "We had just as much—more than we could carry. Besides, I thought we could buy furs up river; anyway, I'm warm enough."

      "No you are not," returned the priest smiling. "You must get a parki with a hood."

      "I've got an Arctic cap; it rolls down over my ears and goes all round my neck—just leaves a little place in front for my eyes."

      "Yes; wear that if you go on the trail; but the good of the parki hood is, that it is trimmed all round with long wolf-hair. You see"—he picked his parki up off the floor and showed it to the company—"those long hairs standing out all round the face break the force of the wind. It is wonderful how the Esquimaux hood lessens the chance of frost-bite."

      While the only object in the room that he didn't seem to see was Mac, he was most taken up with the fireplace.

      The Colonel laid great stress on the enormous services of the delightful, accomplished master-mason over there on the beanbags, who sat looking more than ever like a monkey-wrench incarnate.

      But whether that Jesuit was as wily as the Calvinist thought, he had quite wit enough to overlook the great chimney-builder's wrathful silence.

      He was not the least "professional," talked about the country and how to live here, saying incidentally that he had spent twelve years at the mission of the Holy Cross. The Yukon wasn't a bad place to live in, he told them, if men only took the trouble to learn how to live here. While teaching the Indians, there was a great deal to learn from them as well.

      "You must all come and see our schools," he wound up.

      "We'd like to awfully," said the Boy, and all but Mac echoed him. "We were so afraid," he went on, "that we mightn't see anybody all winter long."

      "Oh, you'll have more visitors than you want."

      "Shall we, though?" Then, with a modified rapture: "Indians, I suppose, and—and missionaries."

      "Traders, too, and miners, and this year cheechalkos as well. You are directly on the great highway of winter travel. Now that there's a good hard crust on the snow you will have dog-trains passing every week, and sometimes two or three."

      It was good news!

      "We've already had one visitor before you," said the Boy, looking wonderfully pleased at the prospect the priest had opened out. "You must know Nicholas of Pymeut, don't you?"

      "Oh yes; we all know Nicholas"; and the priest smiled.

      "We like him," returned the Boy as if some slighting criticism had been passed upon his friend.

      "Of course you do; so do we all"; and still that look of quiet amusement on the worn face and a keener twinkle glinting in the eyes.

      "We're afraid he's sick," the Boy began.

      Before the priest could answer, "He was educated at Howly Cross, he says," contributed O'Flynn.

      "Oh, he's been to Holy Cross, among other places."

      "What do you mean?"

      "Well, Nicholas is a most impartial person. He was born at Pymeut, but his father, who is the richest and most intelligent man in his tribe, took Nicholas to Ikogimeut when the boy was only six. He was brought up in the Russian mission there, as the father had been before him, and was a Greek—in religion—till he was fourteen. There was a famine that year down yonder, so Nicholas turned Catholic and came up to us. He was at Holy Cross some years, when business called him to Anvik, where he turned Episcopalian. At Eagle City, I believe, he is regarded as a pattern Presbyterian. There are those that say, since he has been a pilot, Nicholas makes six changes a trip in his religious convictions."

      Father Wills saw that the Colonel, to whom he most frequently addressed himself, took his pleasantry gravely. "Nicholas is not a bad fellow," he added. "He told me you had been kind to him."

      "If you believe that about his insincerity," said the Colonel, "are you not afraid the others you spend your life teaching may turn out as little credit to you—to Christianity?"

      The priest glanced at the listening Indian. "No," said he gravely; "I do not think all the natives are like Nicholas. Andrew here is a true son of the Church. But even if it were otherwise, we, you know"—the Jesuit rose from the table with that calm smile of his—"we simply do the work without question. The issue is not in our hands." He made the sign of the cross and set back his stool.

      "Come, Andrew," he said; "we must push on."

      The Indian repeated the priest's action, and went out to see to the dogs.

      "Oh, are you going right away?" said the Colonel politely, and O'Flynn volubly protested.

      "We thought," said the Boy, "you'd sit awhile and smoke and—at least, of course, I don't mean smoke exactly—but—"

      The Father smiled and shook his head.

      "Another time I would stay gladly."

      "Where are you going now?"

      "Andrew and I are on our way to the Oklahoma, the steamship frozen in the ice below here."

      "How far?" asked the Boy.

      "About seven miles below the Russian mission, and a mile or so up the Kuskoquim Slough."

      "Wrecked there?"

      "Oh СКАЧАТЬ