He saw with a vision that was keener than sight.

Faith was born in him, and burned like a conflagration.

His head dropped to the snow; a great, gasping sigh ran through him, and his trembling ceased.
His good eye closed slowly as David gently and persistently massaged the muscles of the other with his thumb and forefinger.

When at last he rose to his feet and returned to the cabin, Baree followed him to the edge of the clearing.
Mukoki and the Missioner had made their beds of balsam boughs, two on the floor and one in the bunk, and the Cree had already rolled himself in his blanket when David entered the shack.

Father Roland was wiping David's gun.
"We'll give you a little practice with this to-morrow," he promised.