He was about to pass the group when some one gripped his arm, and a familiar and joyous chuckle sounded in his ear.

Father Roland stood beside him.
"Dear Father in Heaven, but it was a _terrible_ blow, David!" cried the Little Missioner, his face dancing in the flare of the baggage-room lamps.

"It was a tre_men_dous blow--straight out from his shoulders like a battering ram, and hard as rock! It put him to sleep like a baby.

Did you see it ?" "I didn't," said David, staring at the other in amazement.
"He deserved it," explained Father Roland.

"I love to see a good, clean blow when it's delivered in the right, David.