Some mysterious instinct had told him that David was alone; he wanted to come in; his yearning gleamed in his eyes as he stood there stiff-legged in the moonlight.
David held out a hand, on the point of enticing him through the door, when he heard the soft crunching of feet in the snow.

A gray shadow, swift as the wind, Baree disappeared.

David scarcely knew when he went.
He was looking into the face of Father Roland.

He backed into the cabin, without speaking, and the Missioner entered.

He was smiling.