Part 66 (1/2)
Sister Winifred, seeing he expected it, gave him her hand.
”Good-bye, and thank you for coming.”
”For your poor,” he said shyly, as he turned away and left a gift in her palm.
”Thank you for showing us all this,” the Boy said, lingering, but not daring to shake hands. ”It--it seems very wonderful. I had no idea a mission meant all this.”
”Oh, it means more--more than anything you can _see_.”
”Good-bye.”
”Good-bye.”
In the early evening the reception-room was invaded by the lads' school for their usual Sunday night entertainment. Very proudly these boys and young men sang their glees and choruses, played the fiddle, recited, even danced.
”Pity Mac isn't here!”
”Awful pity. Sunday, too.”
Brother Etienne sang some French military songs, and it came out that he had served in the French army. Father Roget sang, also in French, explaining himself with a humourous skill in pantomime that set the room in a roar.
”Well,” said the Colonel when he stood up to say good-night, ”I haven't enjoyed an evening so much for years.”
”It is very early still,” said Father Brachet, wrinkling up his face in a smile.
”Ah, but we have to make such an early start.”
The Colonel went up to bed, leaving the Boy to go to Father Richmond's room to look at his Grammar of the Indian language.
The instant the door was shut, the priest set down the lamp, and laid his hands on the young man's shoulders.
”My son, you must not go on this mad journey.”
”I must, you know.”
”You must _not_. Sit there.” He pushed him into a chair. ”Let me tell you. I do not speak as the ignorant. I have in my day travelled many hundreds of miles on the ice; but I've done it in the season when the trail's at its best, with dogs, my son, and with tried native servants.”
”I know it is pleasanter that way, but--”
”Pleasanter? It is the way to keep alive.”
”But the Indians travel with hand-sleds.”
”For short distances, yes, and they are inured to the climate. You? You know nothing of what lies before you.”
”But we'll find out as other people have.” The Boy smiled confidently.
”I a.s.sure you, my son, it is madness, this thing you are trying to do.
The chances of either of you coming out alive, are one in fifty. In fifty, did I say? In five hundred.”