ng never a word, yet each to the
other expressing the silence of his soul.

The factor, in the seclusion of his bachelor home, held the little cross
up and examined it critically. "To be sent to his mother, she lives in
Rue ---- Ah, if I could have been but a day sooner; yet the bishop must
know," he added, putting the crucifix carefully away.

The good people in the other world, beyond the high wall that separated
the two Christian Tribes, had been having shivers over the factor and
his fondness for the Romans; but when he volunteered to assist at the
funeral of his dead friend, _his_ people were shocked. In that scant
settlement there were not nearly enough priests to perform, properly,
the funeral services, so the factor fell in, mingling his deep full
voice with the voices of the bishop and the Irish brother, and grieving
even as they grieved.

And the Blind Ones, Wing and Dunraven, came also, paying a last tearless
tribute to the noble dead.

When it was all over and the post had settled down to routine, the
factor found in his mail, one morning, a long letter from the Chief
Commissioner at Winnipeg. It told the factor that he was in bad repute,
that the English Church bishop had been grieved, shocked, and
scandalized through seeing the hitherto respectable factor going over to
the Catholics. Not only had he fraternized with them, but had actually
taken part in their religious ceremonies. And to crown it all, he had
carried, a respectable Cree and the Chinese cook along with him.

The factor's placid face took on a deep hue, but only for a moment. He
filled his pipe, poking the tobacco down hard with his thumb. Then he
took the Commissioner's letter, twisted it up, touched it to the tiny
fire that blazed in the grate, and lighted his pipe. He smoked in
silence for a few moments and then said to himself, being alone, "Huh!"

"Ah, that from the bishop reminds me," said the factor. "I must run
over and see the other one."

When the factor had related to the French-Canadian bishop what had
passed between the dead cure and himself, the bishop seemed greatly
annoyed. "Why, man, he had no mother!"

"The devil he didn't--I beg pardon--I say he asked me to send this to
his mother. He started to tell me where she lived and then the call
came. It was the dying request of a dear friend. I beg of you tell me
his mother's name, that I may keep my word."

"It is impossible, my son. When he came into the church he left t