She suggested the aged recluse, but Gordon Duncan shook his head.
“He was a rather frail man. Now he is old. It is impossible.”
Here, then, was fresh mystery.
“We can do no more for Johnny Longbow,” said Gordon Duncan. “He is in another’s hands. To-morrow we will follow the trail of my ancient friend. Since this is true it is well that I tell you something of that which befell me on this very mountain many years ago.”
Dropping upon one of the Indians’ deerskins, Faye awaited eagerly the strange story which she believed was at last to be unfolded.
Gordon Duncan was slow in beginning. The girl’s heart was sore. It is little wonder that her mind should return to thoughts of her brave young companion and his tragic disappearance.
“Grandfather,” she said suddenly, “God is cruel.”
Knowing full well that she was seeing in her mind’s eye the tumbled heaps of snow, earth and rock piled up by the avalanche, Gordon Duncan spoke quietly.
“You are thinking of God as if he were all nature.
“God is not nature, and nature is not God. I think there can be no doubt but that God often works through nature to do His will. Perhaps no man living knows precisely God’s relation to nature. Of one thing we may rest assured, whatever God does through nature is sure to be just and kind.”