"It surely was."
The missionary turned back to the prospect beyond the doorway. But it was only for a moment. He turned again and went on with added urgency.
"But the scheme wasn't wholly to be abandoned. It was—say, here was the crazy proposition he put up. You see I was his most intimate friend. He said: 'The forests are wide. They're peopled with men of our craft. There must be a hundred and more men capable of doing this thing. Of putting it through. Well, the forests must provide the man, or the idea must die.' He said: 'We must find a man!' He said: 'You—you whose mission it is to roam the length and breadth of these forests—you may find such a man. If you do—when you do—if it's years hence—send him along here, and there's ten million dollars waiting for him, and all this great mill, and these timber limits inexhaustible waiting for him to go right ahead. It doesn't matter a thing who he is, or what he is, or where he comes from, so long as he gets this idea—sticks to it faithfully—and puts it through. I want nothing out of it for myself. And the day he succeeds in the great idea all that would have been mine shall be his.'"
As Father Adam finished, he looked into the earnest, wonder-filled eyes of the other.
"Well?" he demanded.
Bull cleared his throat.
"The mill? Where is it?" He demanded.
"Sachigo. Farewell Cove."
"Sachigo! Why it's—"
"The greatest groundwood mill in the world."