day when those wretched hootch peddlers began their diabolical work. I believe the natives want to follow the teaching of their missionary, and are anxious to return to The Gap. They are naturally religious by nature. Did you notice last night how reverent and attentive they were during that simple service?”
“Indeed I did,” the constable emphatically declared. “I was thinking of what Longfellow said in his ‘Hiawatha’ about Indians. Did you ever hear it?”
“Not that I know of. More poetry, I suppose.”
“Yes, but great poetry, and it expresses fully what was in my mind. Longfellow says:
“‘That in even savage bosoms
There are longings, yearnings, strivings,
For the good they comprehend not,
That the feeble hands and helpless,
Groping blindly in the darkness,
Touch God’s right hand in that darkness,
And are lifted up and strengthened.’
“Now, isn’t that beautiful? I could quote you a great deal more from ‘Hiawatha,’ though I advise you to read it yourself when you get a chance. I can’t understand why you have not read it already.”
“For want of the proper poetic gift, I suppose, and because the whole of my life has been lived in the open. But I like those words, especially about feeble hands touching God’s hand in the darkness. I guess that applies to me as well as to the Indians. But, there, we have delayed here too long, so must get on our way.”
This conversation took place at midday, and all through the afternoon the two men sped rapidly forward. They had little to impede their march, for they carried only light packs, and their revolvers. They
