hinker's cheek.

The dogs squatting around wondered what had come over their master.
Yukon poked his nose into the listless hand, while Brisko, with
pricked-up ears, awaited some word of greeting. Keith heeded them not,
but sat long and quietly at the table working out his new plan.

"It will do!" he exclaimed at length. "Hey, Yukon, old boy! we'll beat
Perdue and his bad whiskey yet, won't we? Now, let's off to bed."

Next morning bright and early the missionary made his way to a long low
log building, standing by the side of the church, and not far from his
own cabin. In this was a large stove, which was soon sending out its
genial heat, and giving an air of comfort to the place. Keith looked
round with much satisfaction.

"Just what we want," he said to himself. "The Indians will not need it
until spring, and why should it remain here unused? A few more tables
from that whip-sawn lumber, the benches repaired, and things will be
quite presentable."

Then he set to work, and the manner in which he handled hammer, axe and
saw proved him well skilled in such matters.

He had been working for some time when the door opened, and Joe Simkins
entered. Simply greeting the missionary with "Hello!" he perched
himself upon a small table and gazed around the room.

"Good morning," replied Keith, pausing in the act of nailing a leg to a
rickety bench. "How's the neck?"

"First class; all healed up. My! it feels good in here, for it's
mighty cold outside."

"Better than Perdue's store?"

"Perdue's store be blowed! No more of that for me."

"So you don't intend to go there again?"

"Not much."

"But where will you spend your evenings?"

"Don't know; haven't many more to spend."

Keith looked up quickly. Joe had buried his face in his hands, and was
huddled on the edge of the table. Going to his side, he placed his
hand on the young man's shoulder.

"Joe!"

No answer.

"Joe, you don't mean it, surely! What's the matter?"

"But what's the use of living, and dragging out a dog's existence in
that wretched shack of mine, when in a second I can be free from all
the trouble."

"Yes, Joe, you may free yourself from the trouble in this life, but is
it manly to bring sorrow to others, and bow the heads of your dear
ones?"

Joe looked up. "No one cares for me," he said, half-defiantly.

"No one? Think again. Didn't you tell me that your father and mother
were living alone on a little farm back in