_Why?_ His heart trembled. He lifted his eyes to
the grayish film of smoke rising between him and the balsam-covered
tent, and slowly he saw another face take form, framed in that
wraith-like mist of smoke--the face of a golden goddess, laughing at
him, taunting him. _Laughing--laughing_!... He forced his gaze from it
with a shudder. Again he looked at the picture of the Girl in his hand.
"_She knows. She understands. She comforts me._" He whispered the words.
They were like a breath rising out of his soul. He replaced the picture
in his pocket, and for a moment held it close against his breast.
The next day, as the swift-thickening gloom of northern night was
descending about them again, the Missioner halted his team on the crest
of a boulder-strewn ridge, and pointing down into the murky plain at
their feet he said, with the satisfaction of one who has come to a
journey's end:
"There is Tavish's."
CHAPTER XI
They went down into the plain. David strained his eyes, but he could see
nothing where Father Roland had pointed except the purplish sea of
forest growing black in the fading twilight. Ahead of the team Mukoki
picked his way slowly and cautiously among the snow-hidden rocks, and
with the Missioner David flung his weight backward on the sledge to keep
it from running upon the dogs.
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