fire of large logs was
sending out its generous heat, while the smoke ascended through the
opening above. On either side of the fire the Indians were gathered,
reclining on blankets, wolf and bear skins, placed over a liberal
supply of fir boughs.

Amos, the catechist, was reading the lesson for the day when Jennie
glided into the lodge. His noble face was full of earnestness as he
rolled forth the long words in the rythmical Takudh language, pausing
occasionally to explain some passage to the intent listeners.

Though all present had noticed Jennie's entrance, no sign of
recognition was made as she quietly settled down in their midst, and
listened to the reader. With impassive faces, and a stoicism worthy of
the ancient Grecians, they bowed their heads while Amos repeated
several of the prayers of the Church, and then led in the singing of
"Nearer, My God, to Thee," one of their favourite hymns. Intensely
fond of music, their voices rang out sweet and clear upon the night
air. Old and young joined in the hymn, a translation made years before
by that prince of pioneer missionaries, the venerable Archdeacon
McDonald, who did such a great work at Fort Yukon in the early sixties.

"Ndo nyet nyakkwun Ttia
Ndo nyet nyakkwun,
Kwizyik nititae,
Guselshit chi.
Tthui sih chilig telya
Ndo nyet nyakkwun Ttia,
Ndo nyet nyakkwun."[1]

Not until the hymn had been sung, and the beautiful "Grace of Our Lord
Jesus Christ" said, did the Indians turn their attention to Jennie.
Then all reserve was thrown off, and they surrounded her, plying
question after question as to the cause of her visit. To none of
these, however, did the maiden reply, but unfastening the buckskin
jacket, she drew forth the necklace, and, without a word, handed it to
Amos.

At once all talking ceased, and a deep silence pervaded the place,
broken only by the crackling of the fire or the snarl of a dog outside.
Every eye was fixed upon the badge, the symbol of so much power, as the
catechist held it in his hand and examined it carefully.

Curious though they were to know the meaning of it all, they no longer
questioned the messenger. That it was of supreme importance, they were
well aware, but it was a custom of long standing that when the chief
sent his badge of office, summoning his people together, the courier
must be as silent as the grave. Only from the head of the tribe must
the information be imparted, and then in solemn coun