The Missioner nodded.
"And the pay, Father...."
"Among friends of the forests, David, never speak of pay."
"But this skin! It is beautiful—valuable...."
"And it is yours," said Father Roland. "I am glad you mentioned payment to me, and not to Thoreau or Marie. They might not have understood, and it would have hurt them. If there had been anything to pay, they would have mentioned it in the giving; I would have mentioned it. That is a fine point of etiquette, isn't it?"
Slowly there came a look into David's face which the other did not at first understand. After a moment he said, without looking at the Missioner, and in a voice that had a curious hard note in it:
"But for this ... Marie will let me give her something in return—a little something I have no use for now? A little gift—my thanks—my friendship...."
He did not wait for the Missioner to reply, but went to one of his two leather bags. He unlocked the one in which he had placed the photograph of the girl. Out of it he took a small plush box. It was so small that it lay in the palm of his hand as he held it out to Father Roland.
Deeper lines had gathered about his mouth.
"Give this to Marie—for me."