do good to the--the 'underdog,' and
all the time I'm planning for myself. I want to fight all the time for
those who hold opportunity out to me. It doesn't really matter to me why
the Skandinavia is disliked. They give me opportunity. I reckon they've
been good to me. So I'm their slave to fight for them, and work for
them, whatever their methods. Yes. It's too bad," she laughed frankly.
"I can't deny it. I'd like to, but--I can't."

"No."

Father Adam set down his empty cup, and sat with his arms resting on his
parted knees. His hands were clasped.

"You remind me of someone," he said, in his simple disarming fashion.
"Queerly enough it's a man. A strong, hard, kindly, good-natured man. I
found him without a thought but to make good. And I knew he would make
good. Then it came my way to show him how. I offered him a notion. The
notion was fine. Oh, yes--though I say it. It was the sort of thing if
it were carried to success would hand the fellow working it down to
posterity as one of his country's benefactors. The notion appealed to
him. It stirred something in him, and set fire to his enthusiasm. He
jumped for it. Why? Was it the thought of doing a great act for his
country? Was it for that something that was all good stirring in him?
No. I guess it was because he was a strong, physical, and spiritual, and
mental force concentrated on big things, primarily inspired by Self.
Personal achievement. It seems to me the good man always does what's
real and worth while in the way of helping himself."

"Yes. I think I understand." The girl nodded. "And this strong physical,
and spiritual, and mental force? Have I heard of him? Is he known? Has
he achieved?"

"He's carrying on. Oh, yes." Father Adam paused. Then he went on
quickly. "You don't know him yet. But I think you will. He's out on the
coast of Labrador. He's driving his great purpose with all his force
through the agency of a groundwood mill that would fill your Skandinavia
folk with envy and alarm if they saw it. He's master of forests such as
would break your heart when compared with these of your Skandinavia. His
name's Sternford. Bull Sternford, of Sachigo."

At the mention of Sachigo, Nancy's eyes widened. Then she laughed. It
was a laugh of real amusement.

"Why, that's queer. It's--I'm going right on there from here. I'm going
to meet this very man, Sternford. They tell me I've just time to get
there and pull out again for home before winter freezes the