or two
nearer to his master's feet.

That night Father Roland was restless. Hours later, when he was lying
snug and warm in his own blankets, David heard him get up, and watched
him as he scraped together the burned embers of the fire and added
fresh fuel to them. The flap of the tent was back a little, so that he
could see plainly. It could not have been later than midnight. The
Missioner was fully dressed, and as the fire burned brighter David
could see the ruddy glow of his face, and it struck him that it
looked singularly boyish in the flame-glow. He did not guess what
was keeping the Missioner awake until a little later he heard him
among the dogs, and his voice came to him, low and exultingly, and
as boyish as his face had seemed: "We'll be home to-morrow,
boys--_home_!" That word--home--sounded oddly enough to David up here
three hundred miles from civilization. He fancied that he heard the
dogs shuffling in the snow, and the satisfied rasping of their master's
hands.

Father Roland did not return into the tent again that night. David fell
asleep, but was roused for breakfast at three o'clock, and they were
away before it was yet light. Through the morning darkness Mukoki led
the way as unerringly as a fox, for he was now on his own ground. As
dawn came, with a promise of sun, David wondered in a whimsical sort of
way whether his companions, both dogs and men, were going mad. He had
not as yet experienced the joy and excitement of a northern homecoming,
nor had he dreamed that it was possible for Mukoki's leathern face to
break into wild jubilation. As the first rays of the sun shot over the
forests, he began, all at once, to sing, in a low, chanting voice that
grew steadily louder; and as he sang he kept time in a curious way with
his hands. He did not slacken his pace, but kept steadily on, and
suddenly the Little Missioner joined him in a voice that rang out like
the blare of a bugle. To David's ears there was something familiar in
that song as it rose wildly on the morning air.

"Pa sho ke non ze koon,
Ta ba nin ga,
Ah no go suh nuh guk,
Na quash kuh mon;
Na guh mo yah nin koo,
Pa sho ke non ze koon,
Pa sho ke non ze koon,
Ta ba nin go."

"What is it?" he asked, when Father Roland dropped back to his side,
smiling and breathing deeply. "It sounds like a Chinese puzzle, and yet
..."

The Missioner laughed. M