In the factor's comfortable quarters Mr. Thompson sat down to the first

meal he had thoroughly relished in two weeks. A corner of the verandah

was screened off with wire netting. Outside that barrier mosquitoes and

sandflies buzzed and swarmed in futile activity. Within stood an easy

chair or two and a small table which was presently spread with a linen

cloth, set with porcelain dishes, and garnished with silverware. All the

way down the Athabasca Thompson had found every meal beset with

exasperating difficulties, fruitful of things that offended both his

stomach and his sense of fitness. He had not been able to accommodate

himself to the necessity of juggling a tin plate beside a campfire, of

eating with one hand and fending off flies with the other. Also he

objected to grains of sand and particles of ash and charred wood being

incorporated with bread and meat. Neither Breyette nor MacDonald seemed

to mind. But Thompson had never learned to adapt himself to conditions

that were unavoidable. Pitchforked into a comparatively primitive mode

of existence and transportation his first reaction to it took the form

of offended resentment. There were times when he forgot why he was

there, enduring these things. After such a lapse he prayed for guidance

and a patient heart.

These creature comforts now at hand were in a measure what he had been

accustomed to, what he had, with no thought on the matter, taken as the

accepted and usual order of things, save that his needs had been

administered by two prim and elderly spinster aunts instead of a

black-browed Scotchman and a half-breed servant girl.

Thompson sat back after his supper, fanning himself with an ancient

newspaper, for the day's heat still lingered. Across the table on which

he rested an elbow MacLeod, bearded, aggressive, capable, regarded his

guest with half-contemptuous pity under cover of the gathering dusk.

MacLeod smoked a pipe. Thompson chewed the cud of reflection.

"And so," the factor began suddenly, "ye are a missionary to the Lone

Moose Crees. It will be a thankless task; a tougher one nor I'd care to

tackle. I ha' seen the job undertaken before by folk who--beggin' your

pardon--ha' little conception of the country, the people in it, or the

needs of either. Ye'll find the Cree has more concern for meat an'

clothes, for traps an' powder, than he has for his soul. Ye'll

understand this better when ye ha' more experience in the North. Indeed,

it's no impossible ye might come to the same way of thinkin' in time."

The dusk hid the shocked expression that gathered on Thompson's face.

"'What shall it profit a man to gain the whole world if he knoweth not

God?'" he quoted gravely. "The priests of the Catholic church have long

carried on missionary work among these tribes. We of the Protestant

faith would be lacking if we did not try to extend our field, if we made

no effort to bear light into the dark places. Man's spiritual need is

always greater than any material need can ever be. I hardly expect to

accomplish a great deal at first. But the work will grow."




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