uess at what he might have said. As I told you once before, David, I am
not a Catholic, nor a Church-of-England man, nor of any religion that
wears a name, and yet I accepted a little of them all into my own creed.
A wandering Missioner--and I am such a one--must obliterate to an extent
his own deep-souled convictions and accept indulgently all articles of
Christian faith; and there is one law, above all others, which he must
hold inviolate. He must not pry into the past of the dead, nor speak
aloud the secrets of the living. Let us forget Tavish."

His words sounded a knell in David's heart. If he had hoped that Father
Roland would, at the very last, tell him something more about Tavish,
that hope was now gone. The Missioner spoke in a voice that was almost
gentle, and he came to David and put a hand on his shoulder as a father
might have done with a son. He had placed himself, in this moment,
beyond the reach of any questions that might have been in David's mind.
With eyes and touch that spoke a deep affection he had raised a barrier
between them as inviolable as that law of his creed which he had just
mentioned. And with it had come a better understanding.

David was glad that Mukoki's voice and the commotion of the dogs came to
interrupt them. They gathered up hurriedly the few things they had
brought into the cabin and carried them to the sledge. David did not
enter the cabin again but stood with the dogs in the edge of the timber,
while Father Roland made his promised visit to the grave. Mukoki
followed him, and as the Missioner stood over the dark mound in the
snow, David saw the Cree slip like a shadow into the cabin, where a
light was still burning. Then he noticed that Father Roland was
kneeling, and a moment later the Indian came out of the cabin quietly,
and without looking back joined him near the dogs. They waited.

Over Tavish's grave Father Roland's lips were moving, and out of his
mouth strange words came in a low and unemotional voice that was not
much above a whisper:

"... and I thank God that you did not tell me before you died, Tavish,"
he was saying. "I thank God for that. For if you had--I would have
killed you!"

As he came back to them David noticed a flickering of light in the
cabin, as though the lamp was sputtering and about to go out. They put
on their snow shoes, and with Mukoki breaking the trail buried
themselves in the moonlit forest.

Half an hour later they halted on the summit