Burned Bridges

Insensibly he had to modify certain sweeping convictions. He was not

conscious of this inner compulsion when he concluded to try and meet Sam

Carr without making theology an issue. Somehow this man Carr began to

loom in the background of his thought as a commanding figure. At least,

Thompson said to himself as he passed through the fringe of timber, Sam

Carr by all accounts was a person to whom an educated man could speak

in words of more than two syllables without meeting the blank stare of

incomprehension.

The Lachlans were worthy people enough, but--He shook his head

despondently. As for the Crees--well, he had been at Lone Moose less

than forty-eight hours and he was wondering if the Board of Home

Missions always shot as blindly at a distant mark. It would take him a

year to learn the first smatterings of their tongue. A year! He had

understood that the Lone Moose Crees were partly under civilized

influences. Certainly he had believed that his predecessors in the field

had laid some sort of foundation for the work he was to carry on. It was

considered a matter of course that the mission quarters were livable,

that some sort of meeting place had been provided.

There was a monetary basis for that belief. Some two thousand dollars

had been expended, or perhaps the better word would be appropriated, for

that purpose. Mr. Thompson could not quite understand what had become of

this sum. There was nothing but a rat-ridden shack on a half-cleared

acre in the edge of the forest. There had never been anything else.

Nothing had been accomplished. Thompson shook his head again. His first

report would be a shock to the Board of Home Missions.

He bore straight for Sam Carr's house. While still some distance away he

made out two men seated on the porch. As he drew nearer a couple of

nondescript dogs rushed noisily to meet him. Thompson's general

unfamiliarity with the outdoor world extended to dogs. But he had heard

sometime, somewhere, that it was well to put on a bold front with

barking curs. He acted upon this theory, and the dogs kept their teeth

out of his person, though their clamor rose unabated until one of the

men harshly commanded them to be quiet. Thompson came up to the steps.

The two men nodded. Their eyes rested upon him in frank curiosity.

"My name is Thompson." His diffidence, verging upon forthright

embarrassment, precipitated him into abruptness. He was addressing the

older man, a spare-built man with a trim gray beard and a disconcerting

direct gaze. "I am a newcomer to this place. The factor of Fort Pachugan

spoke of a Mr. Carr here. Have I--er--the--ah--pleasure of addressing

that gentleman?"

Carr's gray eyes twinkled, the myriad of fine creases radiating from

their outer corners deepened.