ttle Missioner's room, and pointing to his tumbled
bed, Father Roland said:

"Now, David, strip!"

David had noticed with some concern the garments worn that morning by
Father Roland and the Frenchman--their thick woollen shirts, their
strange-looking, heavy trousers that were met just below the knees by
the tops of bulky German socks, turned over as he had worn his more
fashionable hosiery in the college days when golf suits, bulldog pipes,
and white terriers were the rage. He had stared furtively at Thoreau's
great feet in their moose-hide moccasins, thinking of his own vici kids,
the heaviest footwear he had brought with him. The problem of outfitting
was solved for him now, as he looked at the bed, and as Father Roland
withdrew, rubbing his hands until they cracked, David began undressing.
In less than a quarter of an hour he was ready for the big outdoors.
When the Missioner returned to give him a first lesson in properly
"stringing up" his moccasins, he brought with him a fur cap very similar
to that worn by Thoreau. He was amazed to find how perfectly it fitted.

"You see," said Father Roland, pleased at David's wonder, "I always take
back a bale of this stuff with me, of different sizes; it comes in
handy, you know. And the cap...."

He chuckled as David surveyed as much as he could see of himself in a
small mirror.

"The cap is Marie's work," he finished. "She got the size from your hat
and made it while we were asleep. A fine fisher-coat that--Thoreau's
best. And a good fit, eh?"

"Marie ... did this ... for me?" demanded David.

The Missioner nodded.

"And the pay, Father...."

"Among friends of the forests, David, never speak of pay."

"But this skin! It is beautiful--valuable...."

"And it is yours," said Father Roland. "I am glad you mentioned payment
to me, and not to Thoreau or Marie. They might not have understood, and
it would have hurt them. If there had been anything to pay, _they_ would
have mentioned it in the giving; _I_ would have mentioned it. That is a
fine point of etiquette, isn't it?"

Slowly there came a look into David's face which the other did not at
first understand. After a moment he said, without looking at the
Missioner, and in a voice that had a curious hard note in it:

"But for this ... Marie will let me give her something in return--a
little something I have no use for now? A little gift--my thanks--my
friendship...."

He did not wait for the Missioner to reply,