"Weak, weak," I answered. "Few hundred. It hasn't been worth while for traders to come here for years."
"Was it worth while this year?"
"Not for trade."
"For anything else?" and he looked at Eric's dejected face.
"Nothing else," I put in hastily, fearing one of Hamilton's outbreaks. "We've been completely off the track, might better have stayed in the north——"
"No, you mightn't, not by any means," was his sharp retort. "I've been in the Sioux lodges for three weeks."
With an inarticulate cry, Hamilton sprang to his feet. He was trembling from head to foot and caught Father Holland roughly by the shoulder.
"Speak out, Sir! What of Miriam?" he demanded in dry, hard, rasping tones.
"Well, well, safe and inviolate. So's the boy, a big boy now! May ye have them both in y'r arms soon—soon—soon!" and again he fell to studying the fire with an unhurried deliberation, that was torture to Hamilton.
"Are they with you? Are they with you?" shouted Hamilton, hope bounding up elastically to the wildest heights after his long depression. "Don't keep me in suspense! I cannot bear it. Tell me where they are," he pleaded. "Are they with you?" and his eyes burned into the priest's like live coals. "Are—they—with—you?"