Canada with the British Empire."

Bull emitted a low whistle.

"An elegant slogan," he commented.

He shifted his position. In his interest his pipe had gone out, and he
leant forward on his upturned box.

"Yes," Father Adam went on. "And, like your notion, it was something not
easily shifted from his mind. It was planned and figured to the last
detail. It was so planned it could not fail. So he thought. So all
concerned thought. You see, he had ten million dollars capital of his
own; and he was something of a genius at figures and finance--his people
reckoned. He was a man of some purpose, and enthusiasm, and--something
else."

"Ah!"

Bull's alert brain was prompt to seize upon the reservation. But denial
was instant.

"No. It wasn't drink, or women, or any foolishness of that sort," the
missionary said. "The whole edifice of his purpose came tumbling about
his ears from a totally unexpected cause. Something happened. Something
happened to the man himself. It was disaster--personal disaster. And
when it came a queer sort of weakness tripped him, a weakness he had
always hitherto had strength to keep under, to stifle. His courage
failed him, and the bottom of his purpose fell out like--that."

Father Adam clipped his fingers in the air and his regretful eyes
conveyed the rest. Then, after a moment, he smiled.

"He'd no--iron guts," he said, with a sigh. "He had no stomach for
battle in face of this--this disaster that hit him."

"It has no relation to his--undertaking?"

"None whatever. I know the whole thing. We were 'intimates.' I know his
whole life story. It was a disaster to shake any man."

The missionary sighed profoundly.

"Yes, I knew him intimately," he went on. "I deplored his weakness. I
censured it. Perhaps I went far beyond any right of mine to condemn. I
don't know. I argued with him. I did all I could to support him. You
see, I appreciated the splendid notion of the thing he contemplated.
More than that, I knew it could be carried out."

He shook his head.

"It was useless. This taint--this yellow streak--was part of the man. He
could no more help it than you could help fighting to the death."

"Queer."

A sort of pitying contempt shone in the younger man's eyes.

"Queer?" Father Adam nodded. "It was--crazy."

"It surely was."

The missionary turned back to the prospect beyond the doorway. But it
was only for a moment. He turned again and went on with added urgency.

"But the