o himself that
this change in David was like a conflagration, and he rejoiced without
speaking, fearing that words might quench the effect of it.

David was looking at him as if he expected an answer.

"What an accursed fool a man is to waste his soul and voice in
lamentation--especially his voice," he went on harshly, his teeth
gleaming for an instant in a bitter smile. "One ought to act and not
whine. That beast back there is ready to act. He would tear Thoreau's
jugular out if he had half a chance. And I ... why, I sneaked off like a
whipped cur. That's why Baree is better than I am, even though he is
nothing more than a four-footed brute. In that room I should have had
the moral courage that Baree has; I should have killed--killed them
both!" He shrugged his shoulders. "I am quite convinced that it would
have been justice, _mon Pere_. What do you think?"

The Missioner smiled enigmatically.

"The soul of many a man has gone from behind steel bars to heaven or I
vastly miss my guess," he said. "But--we don't like the thought of steel
bars, do we, David? Man-made laws and justice don't always run tandem.
But God evens things up in the final balance. You'll live to see that.
He's back there now, meting out your vengeance to them. _Your_
vengeance. Do you understand? And you won't be called to take a hand in
the business." Suddenly he pointed toward the cabin, where Thoreau and
Mukoki were already at work packing a sledge. "It's a glorious day. We
start right after dinner. Let us get your things in a bundle."

David made no answer, but three minutes later he was on his knees
unlocking his trunk, with Father Roland standing close beside him.
Something of the humour of the situation possessed him as he flung out,
one by one, the various articles of his worthless apparel, and when he
had all but finished he looked up into the Missioner's face. Father
Roland was staring into the trunk, an expression of great surprise in
his countenance which slowly changed to one of eager joy. He made a
sudden dive, and stood back with a pair of boxing gloves in his hands.
From the gloves he looked at David, and then back at the gloves,
fondling them as if they had been alive, his hands almost trembling at
the smooth touch of them, his eyes glowing like the eyes of a child that
had come into possession of a wonderful toy. David reached into the
trunk and produced a second pair. The Missioner seized upon them.

"Dear Heaven, what a gif