His dress was a strange mixture.

He wore deerskin leggins and moccasins, but his body was clothed in a long, loose garment of black cloth and on his head was a square cap of black felt.

A small white crucifix suspended by a thin chain from his neck lay upon his breast and gleamed upon the black cloth.
Every one of the five instantly felt veneration and respect for the stranger and Paul murmured, "A priest." The others heard him and understood.

They were all Protestants, but in the deep wilderness religious hatred and jealousy had little hold; upon them none at all.
"Bless you, my sons," repeated the man in his deep, benevolent voice, and then he continued in a lighter tone, speaking almost perfect English, "I do believe that if you had not appeared when you did I and my canoe should have both gone to the bottom of this very deep river.

I am a fair swimmer, but I doubt if I could have gained the land." "We are glad, father," said Paul respectfully, "that we had the privilege to be present and help at such a time." The priest looked at Paul and smiled.