gh up in the Company, and here I was, living
like a dog in the porch of the world, sometimes without other food for
months than frozen fish; and for two years I was in a place where we had
no fire,--lived in a snow-house, with only blubber to eat. And so year
after year, no word!"

"The mail came once every year from the world?" "Yes, once a year the
door of the outer life was opened. A ship came into the bay, and by that
ship I sent out my reports. But no word came from the governor, and
no request went from me. Once the captain of that ship took me by the
shoulders, and said, 'Fawdor, man, this will drive you mad. Come away to
England,--leave your half-breed in charge,--and ask the governor for a
big promotion.' He did not understand. Of course I said I could not go.
Then he turned on me, he was a good man,--and said, 'This will either
make you madman or saint, Fawdor.' He drew a Bible from his pocket and
handed it to me. 'I've used it twenty years,' he said, 'in evil and out
of evil, and I've spiked it here and there; it's a chart for heavy seas,
and may you find it so, my lad.'

"I said little then; but when I saw the sails of his ship round a cape
and vanish, all my pride and strength were broken up, and I came in a
heap to the ground, weeping like a child. But the change did not come
all at once. There were two things that kept me hard."

"The girl?"

"The girl, and another. But of the young lady after. I had a half-breed
whose life I had saved. I was kind to him always; gave him as good to
eat and drink as I had myself; divided my tobacco with him; loved him as
only an exile can love a comrade. He conspired with the Indians to seize
the Fort and stores, and kill me if I resisted. I found it out."

"Thou shalt keep the faith of food and blanket," said Pierre. "What did
you do with him?"

"The fault was not his so much as of his race and his miserable past. I
had loved him. I sent him away; and he never came back."

"Thou shalt judge with the minds of twelve men, and the heart of one
woman."

"For the girl. There was the thing that clamped my heart. Never a
message from her or her brother. Surely they knew, and yet never,
thought I, a good word for me to the governor. They had forgotten the
faith of food and blanket. And she--she must have seen that I could have
worshipped her, had we been in the same way of life. Before the better
days came to me I was hard against her, hard and rough at heart."

"Remem