The man whose life belonged to the twilight of the northern forests was seated in a deep rocker-chair under the window through which the setting sun was pouring its pleasant spring light. He had been reading. But his book was laid aside instantly, and he stood up and smiled the thanks which his words hastily poured forth.
"You know, Nancy, you're completely spoiling me," he said. "I'm going to hate my forest coffee out of a rusty pannikin. I don't know how I'm going on when I pull my freight out of here."
The girl's responsive smile faded abruptly as she set the tray on the table beside the chair.
"When are you going to—pull your freight?" she asked, with a curious, nervous abruptness.
For a moment the man's eyes were averted. Then he straightened up his tall, somewhat stooping figure. He flung his lean shoulders back, and opened his arms wide. And as he did so he laughed in the pleasant fashion which Nancy had grown accustomed to.
He was the picture of complete health. His dark face was pale. His black hair and sparse beard were untouched by any sign of the passage of years. There was not an ounce of superfluous flesh under the curiously clerical garments he lived in.
"Why, right away, child," he said, with simple confidence. "I'll just need to wait for a brief 'freeze-up' to get through the mud around Sachigo. Once on the highlands inside there'll be snow and ice for six weeks or more. I told Sternford this morning I was ready to pull out. You see, thanks to you I've cheated the folk who reckoned to silence me. I'm well, and strong, and the boys of the forest are—needing me. Every day I remain now I'll be getting soft under the unfailing kindness of my nurse."
Nancy poured out the tea. There were two cups on the tray and the man was swift to notice it. She smiled up at him.
"Won't you sit down?" she urged. "You see, I've brought a cup for myself. I—I want to have a long talk with you. I, too, have got to 'pull my freight.'"
Father Adam obeyed. His dark eyes were deeply observant as he surveyed the pretty face with its red glory of hair. That which was passing in his mind found no betrayal. But his thought had suddenly leapt, and he waited.