tle touch on the toe of his moccasin,
and looked down. The cabin was alive with mice! It was filled with the
restless movement of them--little bright-eyed creatures who moved about
him without fear, and, he thought, expectantly. He had not moved an inch
when Father Roland came again into the cabin. He pointed to the floor.

"The place is alive with them!" he protested.

Father Roland appeared in great good humour as he slipped off his
mittens and rubbed his hands over the stove.

"Tavish's pets," he chuckled. "He says they're company. I've seen a
dozen of them on his shoulders at one time. Queer. Queer."

His hands made the rasping sound as he rubbed them. Suddenly he lifted a
lid from the stove and peered into the fire-box.

"He put fuel in here less than an hour ago," he said. "Wonder where he
can be mouching at this hour. The dogs are gone." He scanned the table.
"No supper. Pans clean. Mice hungry. He'll be back soon. But we won't
wait. I'm famished."

He spoke swiftly, and filled the stove with wood. Mukoki began bringing
in the dunnage. The uneasy gleam was still in his eyes. His gaze was
shifting and restless with expectation. He came and went noiselessly,
treading as though he feared his footsteps would awaken some one, and
David saw that he was afraid of the mice. One of them ran up his sleeve
as they were eating supper, and he flung it from him with a strange,
quick breath, his eyes blazing.

"_Muche Munito!_" he shuddered.

He swallowed the rest of his meat hurriedly, and after that took his
blankets, and with a few words in Cree to the Missioner left the cabin.

"He says they are little devils--the mice," said Father Roland, looking
after him reflectively. "He will sleep near the dogs. I wonder how far
his intuition goes? He believes that Tavish harbours bad spirits in this
cabin, and that they have taken the form of mice. Pooh! They're cunning
little vermin. Tavish has taught them tricks. Watch this one feed out of
my hand!"

Half a dozen times they had climbed to David's shoulders. One of them
had nestled in a warm furry ball against his neck, as if waiting. They
were certainly companionable--quite chummy, as the Missioner said. No
wonder Tavish harboured them in his loneliness. David fed them and let
them nibble from his fingers, and yet they gave him a distinctly
unpleasant sensation. When the Missioner had finished his last cup of
coffee he crumbled a thick chunk of bannock and placed it on t