The rifle chilled David's bare fingers when he touched it.

It was short-barrelled, but heavy in the breech, with an appearance of indubitable efficiency about it.

It looked like an honest weapon to David, who was unaccustomed to firearms--and this was more than he could say for the heavy, 38-calibre automatic pistol which Father Roland thrust into his hand, and which looked and felt murderously mysterious.

He frankly confessed his ignorance of these things, and the Missioner chuckled good-humouredly as he buckled the belt and holster about his waist and told him on which hip to keep the pistol, and where to carry the leather sheath that held a long and keen-edged hunting knife.

Then he turned to the snow shoes.