if he slept. The man who was awake looked
up, shaded his eyes, then rising to his feet came down to the water's
edge and waved his hand.

Granger recognised in him his friend Pere Antoine, the gaunt old
Jesuit of Keewatin. No one could remember, not even the Indians, at
what time he had first come into the district; he seemed to have been
there always and was of a great age. Yet, despite his many years, he
could travel miracles of journeys in the name of Mary's son. It was
said of him that he was always to be seen mounting the sky-line in
times of crisis and temptation; that he knew by instinct where men
were in spiritual peril, as the caribou scents water; that he had
often broken out of the forest unexpectedly in time to prevent murder.
There were Indians to be found who would circumstantially assert that
they had met with Pere Antoine, five hundred miles distant from the
spot where he had last been seen, walking in the wilderness radiantly,
wearing the countenance of Jesus Christ.

Granger recalled these legends as he gazed toward the camp; he watched
the figure of the sleeping man--and he thought of Spurling. Was this
Spurling? He tried to make out the man's identity by his figure's
outline, but the robes which were piled above him forbade that. Yet
within himself he was sure that his guess was correct. What was more
likely than that Antoine should have met the fugitive wandering up the
Forbidden River, perhaps sick and starving, should have taken his
confession and compassionately have brought him back? Probably it was
Antoine's purpose that they two should be reconciled. He might even
have converted Spurling and have brought back God into his life, so
that now he was willing to return to Winnipeg to give himself up, and
to take his chance of death.

Having run his canoe aground between the bank-ice, he stepped out and
grasped the Jesuit's hand.

"God has arrived before you this time, Pere Antoine," he said, jerking
his head in the direction of the sleeping man; "he has already done
your work. I have promised Him that I will do no harm to your
companion, so you have arrived too late."

"If it was God who arrived," he said, "I am content."

He spoke significantly, hinting at a further knowledge of which he
supposed Granger to be possessed.

"If it was not God, then who else?"

"Ah, who else?"

Granger, in common with most white men of the district, had fallen
into the Indian superstition that Pere Antoin