But his hands were like ice
as he seized hold of it. A knife gleamed in the moonlight over Tavish's
head as the Missioner cut the rope. They lowered Tavish to the snow, and
David went into the cabin for a blanket. Father Roland wrapped the
blanket carefully about the body so that it would not freeze to the
ground. Then they entered the cabin. The Missioner threw off his coat
and built up the fire. When he turned he seemed to notice for the first
time the deathly pallor in David's face.
"It shocked you--when you found it there," he said. "_Ugh!_ I don't
wonder. But I ... David, I didn't tell you I was expecting something
like this. I have feared for Tavish. And to-night when the dogs and
Mukoki signalled death I was alarmed--until we found the fire in the
stove. It didn't seem reasonable then. I thought Tavish would return.
The dogs were gone, too. He must have freed them just before he went out
there. Terrible! But justice--justice, I suppose. God sometimes works
His ends in queer ways, doesn't He?"
"What do you mean?" cried David, again fighting that thickening in his
throat. "Tell me, Father! I must know. Why did he kill himself?"
His hand was clutching at his breast, where the picture lay. He wanted
to tear it out, in this moment, and demand of Father Roland whether this
was the face--the girl's face--that had haunted Tavish.
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