A romantic light came into his face.

Again, why not?
Even in the Hudson's Bay country and in the Rocky Mountains, he had been called, "Tivi, The Man of the Other." He had been counted the greatest of Medicine Men--one of the Race: the people of the Pole, who lived in a pleasant land, gifted as none others of the race of men.

Not an hour before Jacques had asked him where he got "the other." No man can live in the North for any time without getting the strain of its mystery and romance in him.

Gaston waved his hand to the tomb, and said half-believingly: "Gaston Robert Belward, come again to your kingdom." He turned to go out, and faced the rector of the parish,--a bent, benign-looking man,--who gazed at him astonished.

He had heard the strange speech.