"But when I spoke so bluntly just now, I was only wondering, Storm, if I can do you a good turn, somehow. We white men stick together out here, eh? And your life must be rather lonely."
Storm had a quizzing, twisty sort of smile. He did not know what impulse moved him, or realize that his mother, invisible, but most urgent and determined for his good, guided his mind, directed his hand as he pointed to the New Testament in the factor's hand, and said outright:
"I wants that!"
"What?"
"That book, sir. The New Testament."
"I brought it out with me," said the factor, "to read here under the trees. You want to see it? Here. It was my mother's copy," he added.
Storm took it in his hands, but looked away across the sun-bright river. "My mother's! I left my mother's behind," he said. "You see, it was under her pillow when daddy knifed her. I couldn't go down into the cabin to fetch it then. I just couldn't. Now she says—says she—I got to ax you for this."
"Man! She's dead. She can't be speaking."
"Why not? She hain't so dead as all that. She says there is no death. She told me I'd got to come here to Fort Colville because—to complete my outfit. It hain't complete, she says, without—without that book."
"The Word of God," said Douglas. "No outfit is complete without that weapon. Take it, my boy. You're welcome. It is the sword of the Spirit."