He forced his gaze from it with a shudder.

Again he looked at the picture of the Girl in his hand.
"_She knows.

She understands.

She comforts me._" He whispered the words.
They were like a breath rising out of his soul.

He replaced the picture in his pocket, and for a moment held it close against his breast.
The next day, as the swift-thickening gloom of northern night was descending about them again, the Missioner halted his team on the crest of a boulder-strewn ridge, and pointing down into the murky plain at their feet he said, with the satisfaction of one who has come to a journey's end: "There is Tavish's.".