It did not seem
like a dead thing. It beat with life. It made him strangely unafraid of
what might be ahead of him.
Back at the door of the cabin Thoreau stood with one of his big arms
encircling Marie's slim shoulders.
"I tell you it is like taking the life of a puppy, _ma cherie_," he was
saying. "It is inconceivable. It is bloodthirsty. And yet...."
He opened the door behind them.
"They are gone," he finished. "_Ka Sakhet_--they are gone--and they will
not come back!"
CHAPTER IX
In spite of the portentous significance of this day in his life David
could not help seeing and feeling in his suddenly changed environment,
as he puffed along behind Father Roland, something that was neither
adventure nor romance, but humour. A whimsical humour at first, but
growing grimmer as his thoughts sped. All his life he had lived in a
great city, he had been a part of its life--a discordant note in it, and
yet a part of it for all that. He had been a fixture in a certain lap of
luxury. That luxury had refined him. It had manicured him down to a fine
point of civilization. A fine point! He wanted to laugh, but he had need
of all his breath as he _clip-clip-clipped_ on his snow shoes behind the
Missioner.
Pages:
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113