to the room where he believed his guest had slept, he held the candle above his head and looked in. But no sign of the visitor could he see. In fact, the bed had not been slept in at all. Then he knew for a certainty that the man had gone, and taken with him the scanty supply of food the house contained.
“My, oh, my! I am surprised!” the missionary murmured. “He need not have stolen that food, as I would gladly have given it to him. Why did he commit that sin?”
Charles Norris was of such a trustful disposition that it was hard for him to see evil in anyone. So gentle was he that his gentleness became a weakness when dealing with the stern facts of life. Had his nature been moulded along more rugged lines he would have succeeded better with his Indians. They considered his gentleness and patience as a weakness in his make-up, and always imposed upon him, even when most amenable to his teaching. Perhaps if he had been more severe, and mingled with his gentleness some of the manly fibre of the Great Master, it might have been better. But that he could not do. He would win through gentle love alone, and in no other way, forgetting in his holy enthusiasm that the truest love is at times closely linked with the chastening rod. He knew that there was much evil in the world, but he believed that the overmastering weapon to conquer it was love. He trusted his unknown visitor that night, and when he found that he had wilfully deceived him it was a severe shock.
Returning to the table, he sat down, and remained for some time lost in thought. At length he turned and looked toward a little box upon the shelf where a small clock was ticking. He rose to his feet, went over,
