face so calm in death, the last strand of doubt was broken. What a difference between that man of God and the wretched raving creature we have confined in the patrol house over yonder. That missionary standing at his post of duty, or ‘in the gap,’ as he termed it, has had a far more reaching effect than he ever knew. His remaining at his post, true and faithful, undaunted by failure, praying and trusting, was an important link in saving my soul. There, I’m afraid that I have tired you with all this. Anyway, it relieves me to have someone to speak to.”
“Don’t think that you have tired me, John,” Marion replied. “You have no idea how happy you have made me by telling me all this.”
No longer did they have time for further conversation, as steps sounded outside, and Hugo and the doctor entered, with Zell following close behind. By their quiet manner and sober faces it was easy to tell how deeply they had been affected by the service they had just attended.
“We have done all we can,” the doctor remarked as he sat down somewhat wearily in a chair near the stove. “I have attended many funerals in my life, but none ever appealed to me like the one I have just witnessed. It was the grandest of them all. As I stood there watching the Indians fill in the grave, I thought of Stevenson’s touching words:
“‘Under the wide and starry sky
Dig my grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I lay me down with a will.
Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
And the hunter is home from the hill.’”
