There was nothing in the majesty and wonder of
the scene about him to make him laugh, but he laughed. It was
exultation, an involuntary outburst of the change that was working
within him. He felt, suddenly, that a dark and purposeless world had
slipped behind him. It was gone. It was as if he had come out of a dark
and gloomy cavern, in which the air had been vitiated and in which he
had been cramped for breath--a cavern which fluttered with the uneasy
ghosts of things, poisonous things. Here was the sun. A sky blue as
sapphire. A great expanse. A wonder-world. Into this he had escaped!
That was the thought in his mind as he looked at Father Roland. The
Little Missioner was looking at him with an effulgent satisfaction in
his face, a satisfaction that was half pride, as though he had achieved
something that was to his own personal glory.
"You've beat me, David," he exulted. "The first time I had snow shoes on
I didn't make one half that distance before I was tangled up like a fish
in a net!" He turned to Mukoki. "_Mey-oo iss e chikao!_" he cried.
"Remember?" and the Indian nodded, his leathery face breaking into a
grin.
David felt a new pleasure at their approbation. He had evidently done
well, exceedingly well.
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