to crime. Once more to escape
you left Yukon and came to Winnipeg, and came up here, and still you
are sad. Will I tell you why? Always, always you have depended on
yourself for escape and rest. That is useless, for your sadness does
not belong to any city, or any land; it is within yourself. Wherever
you have travelled you have carried it with you. You must look for
help from outside yourself."

Again he paused, but Granger did not stir. Then he repeated, speaking
yet more gently, "I am an old man and have lived in Keewatin the
length of most men's lives, yet I have not always lived up here. I was
not always happy, and I say to you, you must look for help from
outside yourself."

Then Granger answered him, keeping his head still bowed.

"Where, where must I look for help?"

"Lift up your head."

He obeyed, and the first sight he saw was the face of Pere Antoine
bent above him. Again he was struck with its likeness to the
traditional face of Christ--but the face was that of a Jesus who had
grown grey in suffering and had been often crucified, who was very
ancient and had not yet attained his death. Then he thought he knew
what le Pere had meant by saying that he must look for help from
outside himself. He turned his eyes away and gazed into the sunshine,
and on the greenness of the awakened country. Somehow it all looked
very happy and changed from what it had been before they two had met.
He vaguely wondered whether already he might not be now experiencing
that help. But, as had always happened to him after tasting of a
momentary joy, in turning his head he found a new grief awaiting him,
for there, twenty paces distant, stretched out at the edge of the
underbrush, covered with a robe, he caught sight of that recumbent
figure, lying motionless as if it slept. He shuddered, and seizing the
priest by the arm, speaking hoarsely with suppressed excitement,
exclaimed, "Where did he come from? But where did you find him?"

"I found him stretched out on the bank-ice, awaiting me as I paddled
up-stream toward the bend."

"Then he was coming back. God must have met him down there on the
Forbidden River and have spoken with him face to face; he could not
endure His voice, so he fled. Oh, to come back at such a season, when
the river was in flood, he must have been terribly afraid. He must
have clambered his way up-stream, all those hundred miles, running by
the bank. Pere Antoine, you know many things, what kind of word