inging; though, indeed, the interpretation was only my heart's
response. I know not how it was, but I found myself with hat off and
bowed head, feeling a gratitude which words could not frame--for the
splendor of the universe and the glory of God.

"Rufus," called a voice more musical to my ear than any bird song; and
Frances was at my side with a troubled face. "He's conscious and
talking, but I can't understand what he means. Neither can Miriam and
Eric. I wish you would come in."

I found the priest pale as the pillows against which he leaned, with
glistening eyes gazing fixedly high above the lintel of the door.
Miriam, with her snow-white hair and sad-lined face, was fanning the air
before him. At the other side stood Eric with the boy in his arms. Mr.
Sutherland and I entered the room abreast. For a moment his wistful gaze
fell on the group about the bed. First he looked at Eric and the child,
then at Miriam, and from Miriam to me, then back to the child. The
meaning of it all dawned, gleamed and broke in full knowledge upon him;
and his face shone as one transfigured.

"The Lord was with us," he muttered, stroking Miriam's white hair.
"Praise be to God! Now I can die in peace----"

"No, you can't, Father," I cried impetuously.

"Ye irriverent ruffian," he murmured with a flash of old mirth and a
gentle pressure of my hand. "Ye irriverent ruffian. Peace! Peace! I die
in peace," and again the wistful eyes gazed above the door.

"Rufus," he whispered softly, "where are they taking me?"

"Taking you?" I asked in surprise; but Frances Sutherland's finger was
on her lips, and I stopped myself before saying more.

"Troth, yes, lad, where are they taking me? The northern tribes have
heard not a word of the love of the Lord; and I must journey to a far,
far country."

At that the boy set up some meaningless child prattle. The priest heard
him and listened.

"Father," asked the child in the language of Indians when referring to a
priest, "Father, if the good white father goes to a far, far away,
who'll go to northern tribes?" "And a little child shall lead them,"
murmured the priest, thinking he, himself, had been addressed and
feeling out blindly for the boy. Eric placed the child on the bed, and
Father Holland's wasted hands ran through the lad's tangled curls.

"A little child shall lead them," he whispered. "Lord, now lettest Thou
Thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation. A
light