this they made their way, with caution and no sound, until in a
little clearing in a bend of the stream they saw a cabin. It was a newly
built cabin, and smoke was rising from the chimney.

But the chopping was nearer them, in the heart of a thick cover of
evergreen and birch. Into this Jolly Roger and Peter made their way and
came within a dozen steps of the man who was wielding the axe. It was
then that Jolly Roger rose up with a cry on his lips, for the man was
Father John the Missioner.

In spite of the tragedy through which he had passed the little gray man
seemed younger than in that month long ago when Jolly Roger had fled to
the north. He dropped his axe now and stood as if only half believing,
a look of joy shining in his face as he realized the truth of what had
happened. "McKay," he cried, reaching out his hands. "McKay, my boy!"

A look of pity mellowed the gladness in his eyes as he noted the change
in Jolly Roger's face, and the despair that had set its mark upon it.

They stood for a moment with clasped hands, questioning and answering
with the silence of their eyes. And then the Missioner said:

"You have heard? Someone has told you?"

"No," said Jolly Roger, his head dropping a little. "No one has told
me," and he was thinking of Nada, and her death.

Father John's fingers tightened.

"It is strange how the ways of God bring themselves about," he spoke in
a low voice. "Roger, you did not kill Jed Hawkins!"

Dumbly, his lips dried of words, Jolly Roger stared at him.

"No, you didn't kill him," repeated Father John. "On that same night of
the storm when you thought you left him dead in the trail, he stumbled
back to his cabin, alive. But God's vengeance came soon.

"A few days later, while drunk, he missed his footing and fell from a
ledge to his death. His wife, poor creature, wished him buried in sight
of the cabin door--"

But in this moment Roger McKay was thinking less of Breault the Ferret
and the loosening of the hangman's rope from about his neck than he was
of another thing. And Father John was saying in a voice that seemed far
away and unreal:

"We've sent out word to all parts of the north, hoping someone would
find you and send you back. And she has prayed each night, and each hour
of the day the same prayer has been in her heart and on her lips. And
now--"

Someone was coming to them from the direction of the cabin--someone, a
girl, and she was singing,

McKay's face went w