"There is Tavish's cabin. Come. We will see."
Mukoki remained with the team. They could hear the dogs whining as they
advanced. The cabin took shape in their faces--grotesque, dark,
lifeless. It was a foreboding thing, that cabin. He remembered in a
flash all that the Missioner had told him about Tavish. His pulse was
beating swiftly. A shiver ran up his back, and he was filled with a
strange dread. Father Roland's voice startled him.
"Tavish! Tavish!" it called.
They stood close to the door, but heard no answer. Father Roland stamped
with his foot, and scraped with his toe on the ground.
"See, the snow has been cleaned away recently," he said. "Mukoki is a
fool. He is superstitious. He made me, for an instant--afraid."
There was a vast relief in his voice. The cabin door was unbolted and he
flung it open confidently. It was pitch dark inside, but a flood of warm
air struck their faces. The Missioner laughed.
"Tavish, are you asleep?" he called.
There was no answer. Father Roland entered.
"He has been here recently. There is a fire in the stove. We will make
ourselves at home." He fumbled in his clothes and found a match. A
moment later he struck it, and lighted a tin lamp that hung from the
ceiling.
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