people, in the imperial prairies, the mountains, and the great wide
rivers that were racing down to the northern sea.

The factor at the Hudson's Bay post, whose whole life since he had left
college in England had been passed on the Peace River, at York Factory,
and other far northern stations over which waved the Hudson's Bay
banner, warmed to the new curé from their first meeting, and the curé
warmed to him. Each seemed to find in the other a companion that neither
had been able to find among the few friends of his own faith.

And so, through the long evenings of the northern winter, they sat in
the curé's cabin study or by the factor's fire, and talked of the things
which they found interesting, including politics, literature, art, and
Indians. Despite the great gulf that rolled between the two creeds in
which they had been cradled, they found that they were in accord three
times in five--a fair average for men of strong minds and inherent
prejudices. At first the curé was anxious to get at the real work of
"civilizing" the natives.

"Yes," the factor would say, blowing the smoke upward, "the Indian
should be civilized--slowly--the slower the better."

The curé would pretend to look surprised as he relit his pipe. Once the
curé asked the factor why he was so indifferent to the welfare of the
Crees, who were the real producers, without whose furs there would be no
trade, no post, no job for the ruddy-faced factor. The priest was
surprised that the factor should appear to fail to appreciate the
importance of the trapper.

"I do," said the factor.