, but the Oriental, with his
large imagination, exclaimed, pointing to the tiny heap of golden grain:
"Me ketchem die, me sleep, byme by me wake up in China--seven
thousand--heap good." The cure was about to explain when the factor put
up a warning finger. "Don't cut it too fine, father," said he. "They're
getting on very well."

That was a happy summer for the two men, working together in the garden
in the cool dawn and chatting in the long twilight that lingers on the
Peace until 11 P.M. Alas! as the summer waned the factor saw
that his friend was failing fast. He could walk but a short distance now
without resting, and when the red rose of the Upper Athabasca caught the
first cold kiss of Jack Frost, the good priest took to his bed. Wing
You, the accomplished cook, did all he could to tempt him to eat and
grow strong again. Dunraven watched from day to day for an opportunity
to "do something"; but in vain. The faithful factor made daily visits to
the bedside of his sick friend. As the priest, who was still in the
springtime of his life, drew nearer to the door of death, he talked
constantly of his beloved mother in far-off France--a thing unusual for
a priest, who is supposed to burn his bridges when he leaves the world
for the church.

Often when he talked thus, the factor wanted to ask his mother's name
and learn where she lived, but always refrained.

Late in the autumn the factor was called to Edmonton for a general
conference of all the factors in the employ of the Honorable Company of
gentlemen adventurers trading into Hudson's Bay. With a heavy heart he
said good-bye to the failing priest.

When he had come within fifty miles of Chinook, on the return trip, he
was wakened at midnight by Dunraven, who had come out to ask him to
hurry up as the cure was dying, but wanted to speak to the factor first.

Without a word the Englishman got up and started forward, Dunraven
leading on the second lap of his "century."

It was past midnight again when the _voyageurs_ arrived at the river.
There was a dim light in the cure's cabin, to which Dunraven led them,
and where the Catholic bishop and an Irish priest were on watch. "So
glad to see you," said the bishop. "There is something he wants from
your place, but he will not tell Wing. Speak to him, please."

"Ah, _Monsieur_, I'm glad that you are come--I'm weary and want to be
off."

"The long _traverse_, eh?"

"_Oui, Monsieur_--_le grand voyage_."

"Is there a