set out again because his provisions were low and he was
in haste to reach the end of his journey, as I suppose; but the
weather did not mend, snow was falling, the nor'west wind never
eased, and it is likely he caught no glimpse of the sun to guide
him, for the Indians said that his tracks turned off from the river
Croche which he had been following and wandered away, straight to
the north."

There was no further speech; neither from the two men who had
listened with assenting motions of their heads while they followed
every turn of Eutrope's grim story; nor from the mother whose hands
were clasped upon her knees,--as in a belated supplication; nor from
Maria . .

"When they heard this, men from Ouatchouan set forth after the
weather was a little better. But all his footsteps were covered, and
they returned saying that they had found no trace; that was three
days ago is lost ..."

The listeners stirred, and broke the stillness with a sigh; the tale
was told, nor was there a word that, anyone might speak. The fate of
Francois Paradis was as mournfully sure as though he were buried in
the cemetery at St. Michel de Mistassini to the sound of chants,
with the blessing of a priest.

Silence fell upon the house and all within it. Chapdelaine was leaning
forward, elbows on his knees, his face working,--mechanically striking
one fist upon the other. At length he spoke:--"It shows we are but
little children in the hand of the good God. Francois was one of the
best men of these parts in the woods, and at finding his way; people
who came here used to take him as guide, and always did he bring them
back without mishap. And now he himself is lost. We are but little
children. Some there be who think themselves pretty strong-able to
get on without God's help in their houses and on their lands...but
in the bush..." With solemn voice and slowly-moving head he repeated:
"We are but little children."

"A good man he was," said Eutrope Gagnon, "in very truth a good
man, strong and brave, with ill-will to none.'

"Indeed that is true. I am not saying that the good God had cause
to send him to his death-him more than another. He was a fine
fellow, hard-working, and I loved him well. But it shows you ..."

"No one ever had a thing against him." Eutrope's generous
insistence carried him on. "A man hard to match for work, afraid of
nothing and obliging withal. Everyone who knew him was fond of
him. You will not find his like."

Ra