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Updated: June 6, 2025
He glowed with enthusiasm. His words burned with fire as he simply told "The old, old story Of unseen things above, Of Jesus and His glory, Of Jesus and His love." Then he sang for them a hymn, one loved by his own flock at Klassan. It was a translation of "Jesus, Lover of My Soul," and he sang it with a full, rich voice and an intensity of expression.
"Shrahegan was that boy," came the startling response, "and Shrahegan never forgets." "What! you that boy? I can't believe it!" and Keith looked at the Indian in amazement. "You may not believe it, but it is true. Shrahegan saw you then, and once again at Klassan." "At Klassan!" "Yes, at Klassan." "But what were you doing there?" "Ah, Shrahegan went as a spy.
"Oh, he might have spent a night there, and dropped the book; that's all." "But the letters, and the cross on the rock; what about them?" "Any man might have done that. And if the parson did find a sick man in the cabin who died on his hands, he would naturally bury him in the snow, and put up some marks. It's all quite natural." "But why didn't he say something about it when he came to Klassan?"
He said our teacher did it. He laughed at him, and drove him from Klassan. He is there! He is there!" and the chief stretched out his hand and pointed straight at Pritchen, who shrank back as from a terrific blow. The speaker was about to proceed, but ere he could utter another word Old Pete sprang forward, and with blazing eyes confronted the Indian who had made this serious charge.
Oh, yes, I'll take your advice, my fine fellow, but I'll come back, yes, I'll come back, and then beware!" Early the next morning he left Klassan with a small pack on his back, snow-shoes on his feet, and a rifle under his arm. For five days the wilderness swallowed him up, and then he returned.
The moon was full, and only a short pause was made at night for rest and refreshment. On the second day from Klassan the weather changed. The air became milder, and a dull grey sky lowered overhead. In the afternoon the wind began to blow, and ere long man and dogs were flecked with particles of driving snow.
When once alone, Keith's steps quickened. The King's business required haste and he must not delay. After crossing the mountain he reached the unnamed river flowing free and strong before him. Here was an opportunity which a frontiersman could not afford to overlook. The stream would speed him on his way to Klassan.
He reached the door, and, scarcely waiting to lift the latch, he drove it open with one push of his powerful shoulder, and gazed upon the scene within. For long years the Indian village of Klassan had lain snugly ensconsed between the sheltering arms of two towering mountains.
He pictured his flock, which he had tended with such care, scattered upon the many hills. He saw vice rampant at Klassan, the church closed, the school unattended, and the Indians exposed to every temptation. Nevertheless, he did not consume his strength in useless whining, or rail at the blow which had fallen. His soul was too large for that.
"Fired the parson! Druve 'im from Klassan!" "The brutes! The wretches!" and Constance stamped her small foot upon the floor, while her hands clinched and her eyes glowed. "Are they men or only beasts? Did no one stand up for him?" "Only me an' Joe," replied the miner, looking with admiration upon the spirited woman before him. "We done what we could.
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