d where he is weakest.

"'If you don't like it,' says the Indian, with a dead-quiet,
plumb-straight look at the Head, 'you may call me what the people up
along the Red River call me; I'm known there as the Shagganappi--Shag,
if you want to cut off part of the word. The other boys may call me Shag
if they want to.' Say, fellows, I liked him right there and then. He may
chum up with me all he likes, for all his silk socks and shirts."

"What did the Head say?" asked little Johnnie Miller.

"Said he liked the name Shag," replied Cop. "'Then I'm Shag to you, sir,
and the others here,' speaks up his Indian nibs. Then he and I struck
for the tubs, then they took him to get his room, and I came up here."

As Cop finished speaking the chapel bell sounded and all four boys
scrambled down to prayers. As they entered the little sanctuary, one
of the masters standing irresolute near the door, beckoned to Cop.
"Billings," he whispered, "Will you please go and ask Larocque if he
cares to come to prayers? He's in room 17; you met him this morning,
I believe."

"Certainly, sir," replied Cop, dashing up the nearest stairway.

"Entrez," replied an even voice to Cop's unusually respectful knock.
Then the voice rapidly corrected itself, "Enter, come in," it said in
English.

"How about prayers?" asked Cop. "Perhaps you're tired and don't care to
come?"

"I'll go," replied the Indian, and followed noiselessly where Billings
led.

They entered just as Professor Warwick was beginning prayers, and
although the eighty or so boys present were fairly exemplary, none could
resist furtive looks at the newcomer, who walked up the little aisle
beside Billings with a peculiarly silent dignity and half-indifference
that could not possibly be assumed. How most of them envied him that
manner! They recalled their own shyness and strangeness on the first
day of their arrival; how they stumbled over their own feet that first
morning at prayers; how they hated being stared at and spoken of as "the
new boy." How could this Indian come among them as if he had been born
and bred in their midst? But they never knew that Larocque's wonderful
self-possession was the outcome of his momentary real indifference; his
thoughts were far away from the little college chapel, for the last
time he had knelt in a sanctuary was at the old, old cathedral at St.
Boniface, whose twin towers arose under the blue of a Manitoba sky,
whose foundations stood where the hist