he seemed to himself more perfectly possessed by the
Divine Spirit than at the moment when he reached the summit of the last
hill, and looked down into the valley where lay the lumber-camp. He
paused to gaze upon a scene of surpassing loveliness, and was for a
moment absorbed by its beauty; but a sudden discovery startled and
disturbed him. There was no smoke curling from the chimneys. There were
no forms of men moving about in their brilliant woolen shirts; he
listened in vain for voices; he could not even hear the yelp of the
ever-watchful dogs.

"Can it be possible that I have been deceived by my vision?" he asked
himself.

It was the first real skepticism of his life, and crowding it back into
his heart as best he could, he pressed on, excited and curious. As he
approached the rude structure, the signs of its desertion became
indubitable. He called, but heard only the echo of his own voice. He
tried the door, and it opened. Through it he entered the low-ceiled
room. On every hand were evidences of recent departure; living coals
still glowed in the ashes and crumbs were scattered on the tables. There
could be no longer any doubt that the lumbermen had vanished. The last
and most incontrovertible proof was tacked upon the wall in the shape of
a flat piece of board on which were written in a rude scrawl these
words: "We have gone to the Big Miami."

The face so bright and clear a moment ago was clouded now. He read the
sentence over and over again. He sat down upon a bench and meditated,
then rose and went out, walking around the cabin and returning to read
the message once more. If he had spoken the real sentiment of his heart
he would have said: "I have been deceived." He did not speak, however,
but struggled bravely to throw off the feelings of surprise and doubt;
and so, reassuring his faith again and again by really noble efforts,
took from his pocket the lunch his mother had prepared, and ate it
hungrily although abstractedly. As he did so, he felt the animal joy in
food and rest, and his courage and confidence revived.

"It is plain," he said to himself, "that God has sent me here to try my
faith. All he requires is obedience! It is not necessary that I should
understand; but it is necessary that I should obey!"

The idea of a probation so unique was not distasteful to his romantic
nature, and he therefore at once addressed himself to the business upon
which he had come. He had been sent to preach, and pre