He wanted to help, not because he placed any value on his
assistance, but simply because his blood and his brain were imposing new
desires upon him. He kicked off his snow shoes, and went with Mukoki to
the door of the cabin, which was fastened with a wooden bolt. When they
entered he could make out things indistinctly--a stove at first, a
stool, a box, a small table, and a bunk against the wall. Mukoki was
rattling the lids of the stove when Father Roland entered with his arms
filled. He dropped his load on the floor, and David went back to the
sledge with him. By the time they had brought its burden into the cabin
a fire was roaring in the stove, and Mukoki had hung a lighted lantern
over the table. Then Father Roland seized an axe, tested its keen edge
with his thumb, and said to David: "Let's go cut our beds before it's
too dark." Cut their beds! But the Missioner's broad back was
disappearing through the door in a very purposeful way, and David
caught up a second axe and followed. Young balsams twice as tall as a
man were growing about the cabin, and from these Father Roland began
stripping the branches. They carried armfuls into the cabin until the
one bunk was heaped high, and meanwhile Mukoki had half a dozen pots and
kettles and pans on the glowing top of the sheet-iron stove, and thick
caribou steaks were sizzling in a homelike and comforting way.
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