light glimmering through the trees; but he was
too tired to go farther. Why should he try to reach that light, he
asked himself, as he dreamily stretched his tired limbs in the snow.
But he felt little Benjamin moving beneath his cloak, and with one
last effort he crawled through the drifts, clinging to the trees as he
moved. A few moments later he found himself before a little shack. A
single tallow candle shone through the window and cast a path of light
before his weary feet. Reuben lurched forward against the door; it
opened beneath his weight and he fell within the hut. He had a dim
vision of two men bending over him; some one was taking little
Benjamin from his arms; then the warm darkness wrapped him about like
a cloak, and he knew nothing more.

* * * * *

When Reuben opened his eyes, he found that he was resting upon a couch
of skins in one corner of the hut. It was a poor place; the walls were
bare, and through their chinks snows drifted upon the frozen earthen
floor. Beside the pallet there was no furniture in the room save a
roughly hewn table and several chairs. Near the table sat two men, the
one dressed in rich garments, a sword at his side; the other clothed
in dull gray, with a broad white collar and a plain beaver hat. This
man held little Benjamin on his knee and stroked his dark curls as
the child drank greedily from the steaming cup which the kind-eyed
stranger held to his lips.

Reuben sat up among the skins and noticed in surprise that his hosts
had removed his wet garments and replaced them with a long, warm cloak
of bearskin. What manner of men were these, he asked himself, who
treated a Jewish wanderer so kindly? As he advanced timidly toward the
table, the man in gray turned to him and held out his hand.

"_Shalom_," he said smiling.

Reuben took his hand, astonished to hear the tongue of his fathers in
the wilderness of the American forests. "_Shalom aleichem_," he
faltered. "But you are not a Jew."

The other shook his head and answered him in English, a language
Reuben had learned from the trading Englishmen and adventurers he had
met while in South America. "No, but I am a minister and have studied
the Hebrew tongue. And I love its greeting of 'Peace.' Would that my
people were lovers of peace, even as your's have been for so long."

Benjamin ran to his father. "Father," he cried, "the good gentleman
gave me warm milk to drink and bread to eat and th