Last summer I met a very old Catholic missionary whom I have known for years. We were both on an inspection trip in the depths of the Canadian wilderness. Our reasons for roaming so far north from civilization were absolutely different. Still we both had one main interest at heart, that of the Indian; and, instinctively, we chose that topic of conversation while we sat smoking around the camp-fire that evening.
Wise to the ways of the natives, broad-minded like all the missionaries of the old school, the Father was in a reminiscent mood. His stories referred chiefly to his early days when many Chippewayans were still pagans, refusing to accept Christianity, although allowing their children to listen to the missionaries and follow some of their instructions.
The following story, among many others, appealed to me the most.