lvet in a
golden clasp, the flash of a wonderful jewel on her finger, the modeling
of the small, brown cap with its two eagle quills--all set the little
woman apart and made her fit to enter any well-dressed company of riders
in some great city park or fashionable drive. Yet here in the wilderness
she was not overdressed.

The eight men from the camp stood in solemn row, waiting to be
recognized, and behind them, abashed and grinning with embarrassment,
stood Pop and Mom Wallis, Mom with her new gray bonnet glorifying her
old face till the missionary's wife had to look twice to be sure who she
was.

"And now, surely, Hazel, we must have these dear people come over and
help us with the singing sometimes. Can't we try something right now?"
said the missionary, looking first at his wife and then at Margaret and
Gardley. "This man is a new-comer since I went away, but I'm mighty sure
he is the right kind, and I'm glad to welcome him--or perhaps I would
better ask if he will welcome me?" And with his rare smile the
missionary put out his hand to Gardley, who took it with an eager grasp.
The two men stood looking at each other for a moment, as rare men,
rarely met, sometimes do even on a sinful earth; and after that clasp
and that look they turned away, brothers for life.

That was a most interesting song rehearsal that followed. It would be
rare to find four voices like those even in a cultivated musical center,
and they blended as if they had been made for one another. The men from
the bunk-house and a lot of other people silently dropped again into
their seats to listen as the four sang on. The missionary took the bass,
and his wife the alto, and the four made music worth listening to. The
rare and lovely thing about it was that they sang to souls, not alone
for ears, and so their music, classical though it was and of the highest
order, appealed keenly to the hearts of these rough men, and made them
feel that heaven had opened for them, as once before for untaught
shepherds, and let down a ladder of angelic voices.

"I shall feel better about leaving you out here while I am gone, since
they have come," said Gardley that night when he was bidding Margaret
good night. "I couldn't bear to think there were none of your own kind
about you. The others are devoted and would do for you with their lives
if need be, as far as they know; but I like you to have _real
friends_--real _Christian_ friends. This man is what I call a Ch