"My, that's fine!" he ejaculated, wiping the perspiration from his forehead with the sleeve of his coat. "I ain't heard such singing since I left the Caribou country."
"And no one else," contemptuously remarked his companion. "But say, duck yer head, the parson's prayin'."
Interested though Constance was in watching the miners, her attention was centred chiefly on the missionary. She hardly knew him at first, so much had he been transformed by Old Pete's scissors and razor. The long hair had been neatly trimmed, and the unkempt beard removed, exposing a face, almost youthful in appearance, but full of determination and strength of character. It was when the prayers had been said, the second hymn sung, and he had begun his address, that her interest became thoroughly aroused.
His subject was peace, and, after referring to the Great Prince of Peace, whose birth they were commemorating, he passed on to speak about the peace of life. As he described a vessel beating her way through a furious storm, while the cruel waves dealt her mighty sledge-hammer blows, she noticed how stern became his face, while a bright light gleamed in his eye. But as he spoke about the peace of the harbour, with the storm shut out, and the light of home shining clearly ahead, his features softened.
"He's livin' it fer sure," remarked Bill Towser, to a miner at his side, when Keith had finished.
"Y' bet," came the response.
"An' did ye notice the power on him when he told about that ship?"
"Yep."
"Well, I tell ye it moved me mighty. I allus said thar's more inside a man than lights an' liver, an' now I know it fer sure. Hello! what in blazes is this?" he continued, looking suddenly up. "A fiddle! well, I'll be blowed! an' the parson's tunin' up!"
"Ye'll sing it, lassie, won't ye?" whispered Pete to Constance, when Keith had played over the air of "Hark, the Herald Angels Sing."