'tall. But der's breed familee
call Lachlan, eef she's not move 'way somew'ere. Dat familee she's talk
Henglish, and ver' fond of preacher. S'pose we go mak leetle veesit hon
dem Lachlan, eh? Ah theenk us two feller we're gon' beet dat water weeth
de paddle een de morneeng."

A man does not easily forego habits that have become second nature.
Breyette and MacDonald put on their dilapidated hats, filled their
pipes, and were ready for anything from a social call to a bear hunt.
Thompson had to shave, wash up, brush his hair, put on a tie and collar,
which article of dress he donned without a thought that the North was
utterly devoid of laundries, that he would soon be reduced to flannel
shirts which he must wash himself. His preparations gave the breeds
another trick of his to grin slyly over. But Thompson was preparing
himself to face the units of his future congregation, and he went about
it precisely as he would have gone about getting ready for a Conference,
or a cup of tea with a meeting of the Ladies' Aid. Eventually, however,
the three set out across the trunk-littered clearing.

The thin place in the belt of timber to the northward proved barely a
hundred yards deep. On the farther side the brushy edge of the woods
gave on the open meadow around which the Lone Moose villagers had built
their cabins. Thompson swept the crescent with a glance, taking in the
dozen or so dwellings huddling as it were under the protecting wings of
the forest, and his gaze came to rest on the more impressive habitation
of Sam Carr.

"Dat's white man married hon Enjun woman," Breyette responded to
Thompson's inquiry. "Ah don' never see heem maself. Lachlan she's leev
over there."

Left to himself Thompson would probably have gravitated first to a man
of his own blood, even though he had been warned to approach Carr with
diplomacy. But there was no sign of life about the Carr place, and his
men were headed straight for their objective, walking hurriedly to get
away from the hungry swarms of mosquitoes that rose out of the grass.
Thompson followed them. Two weeks in their company, with a steadily
growing consciousness of his dependence upon them, had inclined him to
follow their lead.

They found Lachlan at home, a middle-aged Scotch half-breed with a house
full of sons and daughters ranging from the age of four to twenty. How
could they all be housed in three small rooms was almost the first
dubious query which presented itself to