him as a father and revered him as a
pope. His parish, a diocese in size, extended over the long point of the
southern mainland; over the many islands of the Straits, large and
small, some of them unnoted on the map, yet inhabited perhaps by a few
half-breeds, others dotted with Indian farms; over the village itself,
where stood the small weather-beaten old Church of St. Jean; and over
the dim blue line of northern coast, as far as eye could reach or priest
could go. His roadways were over the water, his carriage a boat; in the
winter, a sledge. He was priest, bishop, governor, judge, and physician;
his word was absolute. His party-colored flock referred all their
disputes to him, and abided by his decisions--questions of fishing-nets
as well as questions of conscience, cases of jealousy together with
cases of fever. He stood alone. He was not propped. He had the rare
leader's mind. Thrown away on that wild Northern border? Not any more
than Bishop Chase in Ohio, Captain John Smith in Virginia, or other
versatile and autocratic pioneers. Many a man can lead in cities and in
camps, among precedents and rules, but only a born leader can lead in a
wilderness where he must make his own rules and be his own precedent
every hour.

The dogs trotted cheerfully, with all their bells ringing, round to the
back door. Old Pierre detested dogs, yet always fed them with a strange
sort of conscientiousness, partly from compassion, partly from fear. He
could never accustom himself to the trains. To draw, he said, was an
undoglike thing. To see the creatures rush by the island on a moonlight
night over the white ice, like dogs of a dream, was enough to make the
hair elevate itself.

"Whose hair?" Rast had demanded. "Yours, or the dogs'?" For young
Pronando was a frequent visitor at the hermitage, not as pupil or member
of the flock, but as a candid young friend, admiring impartially both
the priest and his cook.

"Hast thou brought me again all those wide-mouthed dogs, brigands of
unheard-of and never-to-be-satisfied emptiness, robbers of all things?"
demanded Pierre, appearing at the kitchen door, ladle in hand. Antoine's
leathery cheeks wrinkled themselves into a grin as he unharnessed his
team, all the dogs pawing and howling, and striving to be first at the
entrance of this domain of plenty.

"Hold thyself quiet, Rene. Wilt thou take the very sledge in, Lebeau?"
he said, apostrophizing the leaders. But no sooner was the last st