get far today. Let
these gentlemen know when breakfast is ready," he said, as Christopher
put his head in. He looked at his watch. "I hope you will find
everything you need," he said; and, continuing to talk about the gale
and some damage it had done to one of the outbuildings, he went into
the entry, just beyond the reception-room door, and began to put on his
furs.

"_You are_ not going out in such weather!" the Colonel called after him
incredulously.

"Only as far as the church."

"Oh, is there church today?" inquired the Boy more cheerfully than one
might expect.

The Colonel started and made a signal for discretion.

"Blest if it isn't Sunday!" he said under his breath.

"He doesn't seem dead-set on our observing it," whispered the Boy.

The Colonel warmed himself luxuriously at the stove, and seemed to
listen for that summons from the entry that never came. Was Father
Richmond out there still, or had he gone?

"Do they think we are heathens because we are not Jesuits?" he said
under his breath, suddenly throwing out his great chest.

"Perhaps we ought to... Hey? They've been awfully considerate of
_us--_"

The Colonel went to the door. Father Richmond was struggling with his
snow-boots.

"With your permission, sir," says the Colonel in his most magnificent
manner, "we will accompany you, or follow if you are in haste."

"With all my heart. Come," said the priest, "if you will wait and
breakfast with us after Mass."

It was agreed, and the immediate order was countermanded. The sound of
a bell came, muffled, through the storm.

With thoughts turning reluctantly from breakfast, "What's that?" asked
the Boy.

"That is our church bell." The Father had helped the Colonel to find
his parki.

"Oh--a--of course--"

"A fine tone, don't you think? But you can't tell so well in this
storm. We are fond of our bell. It is the first that ever rang out in
the Yukon valley. Listen!"

They stood still a moment before opening the front door. The Boy,
seeing the very look of a certain high-shouldered gray stone "St.
Andrew's" far away, and himself trotting along beside that figure,
inseparable from first memories, was dimly aware again, as he stood at
the Jesuit's door, in these different days, of the old Sunday feeling
invading, permeating his consciousness, half reluctant, half amused.

The Colonel sat in a rural church and looked at the averted face of a
woman.

Only to the priest was the sound all m