Thus he lived for weeks. He was a good hunter, and worked most industriously and successfully. All the game taken, he brought to his wife and children, upon which he insisted that they should feast, while he confined himself to a fish diet; although those caught at that season were far from being the best.
One Saturday evening, as we were standing in the front of our mission home enjoying the splendours of a most magnificent sunset, we saw Robert coming up the trail. As he drew near I accosted him kindly, but it was easy to see that he was in trouble, and that there was “something on his mind.” We chatted about various things, and I encouraged him to speak out freely. With a sudden effort he broke loose from his feeling of restraint, and said:
“Missionary, are you going to let me come to the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper to-morrow?”
Four times a year we had this sacramental service, and it was a great event to our native Christians. In answer to his question I replied:
“Why Robert, what is there to cause me to wish to prevent you from coming to the Lord’s table?”
Looking at me earnestly, he said:
“There is a good deal. Just think of the way I have treated my wife and daughters!”
“Yes,” I said, “I remember that; but I also know how you have been treating them during the last few weeks.”
With a face from which the shadows had now fled away, he said quickly:—
“Have you heard anything about that?”