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Updated: May 9, 2025
"Go to ze schoolhouse and get fed, for it's all you seem able to get zere." But the perplexed flight of the Pymeuts was arrested. Brother Paul and Brother Etienne blocked the way with a stretcher. They all stood back to let the little procession come in. Nobody noticed them further, but the Pymeuts scuttled away the instant they could get by.
If the Ol' Chief an' I fail to convince you of our penitence, we're all willin' to let this gentleman plead for us." Whereupon he wheeled round and held up the Woeful One before the Father's eyes. The priest grasped the offering with an almost convulsive joy, and instantly turned his back that the Pymeuts might not see the laugh that twisted up his humorous old features.
But the Pymeuts and the school-boys had vanished. He came in and set down the lamp. "We a we heard you were going down river," said the Boy, tamely, for he had not yet recovered himself after such an unexpected blow. "Are you cold? Are you wet?" demanded Brother Paul, standing erect, unwelcoming, by the table that held the lamp. The Boy pulled himself together.
Nicholas kicked, but to no purpose; he could make only such progress as his guest permitted. Presently a gleam. Nicholas had thrust away the flap at the tunnel's end, and they stood in the house of the Chief of the Pymeuts, that native of whom Father Wills had said, "He is the richest and most intelligent man of his tribe."
The penitents looked at each other, and telegraphed in Pymeut that after all the Boy had come up to time. The Father had refused the valuable lynx-skin and Nicholas' superior spoon, but was ready, it appeared, to look with favour on anything the Boy offered. But very seriously the priest turned round upon the Pymeuts. "I will just say a word to you before we wash and go in to supper."
"They haven't much to think about except what they eat; they wanted to try our fish, and were ready to exchange. I promised I would send a load back from Ikogimeut if they'd " He seemed not to care to finish the sentence. "So you didn't do much for the Pymeuts after all?" "I did something," he said almost shortly.
But Father Wills had shown the Colonel the piece of dirty paper the Indian had brought on the night of the Blow-Out. "Trouble threatened. Pymeuts think old chief dying not of consumption, but of a devil. They've sent a dogteam to bring the Shamán down over the ice. Come quickly. "Reckon we'd better hold our horses till we hear from Holy Cross." "Hear what?"
With long looking at a couple of crossed sticks men grow as dazed, as hypnotized, as Pymeuts watching a Shamán's ivory wand. All the same, I'm not sure that faith in 'First Principles' would build a house like this in the Arctic Regions, and it's convenient to find it here if only they'd open the door."
"Look here" he turned away from the comforting stove and confronted the Jesuit "those Pymeuts are not only cold and wet and sick too, but they're sorry. They've come to ask forgiveness." "It's easily done." Such scorn you would hardly expect from a follower of the meek Galilean. "No, not easily done, a penance like this.
Involuntarily the Boy shivered. "I came to see the Father Superior." He dropped back into a chair. "The Father Superior is busy." "I'll wait." "And very tired." "So'm I." " worn out with the long raging of the plague. I have waited till he is less harassed to tell him about the Pymeuts' deliberate depravity.
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