David pranced carelessly about the Little Missioner, poking him beautifully as he offered suggestions and criticism.
"You should protect your nose, _mon Pere_"-- _plunk_! "And the pit of your stomach"-- _plunk_! "And also your ears"-- _plunk_, _plunk_! "But especially your nose, _mon Pere_"-- _plunk_, _plunk_! "And sometimes the tip of your jaw, David," gurgled Father Roland, and for a few moments night closed in darkly about David.
When he came fully into his senses again he was sitting in the snow, with the Little Missioner bending over him anxiously, and Mukoki grinning down at him like a fiend.
"Dear Heaven, forgive me!" he heard Father Roland saying.

"I didn't mean it so hard, David--I didn't! But oh, man, it was such a chance--such a beautiful chance! And now I've spoiled it.

I've spoiled our fun." "Not unless you're--tired," said David, getting up on his feet.

"You took me at a disadvantage, _mon Pere_.

I thought you were green." "And you were pulverizing my nose," apologized Father Roland.
They went at it again, and this time David spared none of his caution, and offered no advice, and the Missioner no longer posed, but became suddenly as elusive and as agile as a cat.