saw the sweet glory
in Nada's face later that morning, and the happiness that was in Roger
McKay's. Yet was that aching place in his heart, and the hidden fear
which he could not vanquish.

And that day, it seemed to him, his lips gave voice to lies. For, being
Sunday, the wilderness folk gathered from miles about, and he preached
to them in the little mission house which they had helped him to build
of logs in the clearing. Partly he spoke in Cree, and partly in English,
and his message was one of hope and inspiration, pointing out the silver
linings that always lay beyond the darkness of clouds. To McKay, holding
Nada's hand in his own as they listened, Father John's words brought a
great and comforting faith. And in Nada's eyes and voice as she led in
Cree the song, "Nearer, My God, to Thee," he heard and saw the living
fire of that faith, and had Breault come in through the open doorway
then he would have accepted him calmly as the beginning of that
sacrifice which he had made up his mind to make.

In the afternoon, when the wilderness people had gone, Father John heard
again the story of Yellow Bird, for Nada was ever full of questions
about her, and for the first time the Missioner learned of the
inspiration which the Indian woman's sorcery had been to Jolly Roger.

"It was foolish," McKay apologized, in spite of the certainty and faith
which he saw shining in Nada's eyes. "But--it helped me."

"It wasn't foolish," replied Nada quickly. "Yellow Bird DID come to me.
And--SHE KNEW."

"No true faith is folly," said Father John, in his soft, low voice. "The
great fact is that Yellow Bird believed. She was inspired by a great
confidence, and confidence and faith give to the mind a power which it
is utterly incapable of possessing without them. I believe in the mind,
children. I believe that in some day to come it will reach those heights
where it will unlock the mystery of life itself to us. I have seen many
strange things in my forty-odd years in the wilderness, and not the
least of these have been the achievements of the primitive mind. And it
seems to me, Roger, that Yellow Bird told you much that has come true.
And has it occurred to you--"

He stopped, knowing that the cloud of unrest which was almost fear in
his heart was driving him to say these things.

"What, father," questioned Nada, bending toward him.

"I was about to express a thought which suggests an almost childish
curiosity, and you will laugh