They shook hands, and the Missioner, looking
David keenly in the eyes, saw the change in him.
"No need to tell me you had a good night!" he exclaimed.
"Splendid," affirmed David.
The window was blazing with the golden sun now; it shot through where
the frost was giving way, and a ray of it fell like a fiery shaft on
Marie's glossy head as she bent over the table. Father Roland pointed to
the window with one hand on David's arm.
"Wait until you get out into _that_," he said. "This is just a
beginning, David--just a beginning!"
They sat down to breakfast, fish and coffee, bread and potatoes--and
beans. It was almost finished when David split open his third piece of
fish, white as snow under its crisp brown, and asked quite casually:
"Did you ever hear of the Stikine River, Father?"
Father Roland sat up, stopped his eating, and looked at David for a
moment as though the question struck an unusual personal interest in
him.
"I know a man who lived for a great many years along the Stikine," he
replied then. "He knows every mile of it from where it empties into the
sea at Point Rothshay to the Lost Country between Mount Finlay and the
Sheep Mountains. It's in the northern part of British Columbia, with its
upper waters reaching into the Yukon.
Pages:
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81