eyes; big Sandy was sitting very stiff, and staring harder than ever
into the fire; Baptiste was trembling with excitement; Blaney was openly
wiping the tears away. But the face that held my eyes was that of
old man Nelson. It was white, fierce, hungry-looking, his sunken eyes
burning, his lips parted as if to cry.

The minister went on. 'I didn't mean to tell you this, men, it all came
over me with a rush; but it is true, every word, and not a word will I
take back. And, what's more, I can tell you this, what He did for me
He can do for any man, and it doesn't make any difference what's behind
him, and'--leaning slightly forward, and with a little thrill of pathos
vibrating in his voice--'O boys, why don't you give Him a chance at you?
Without Him you'll never be the men you want to be, and you'll never get
the better of that that's keeping some of you now from going back home.
You know you'll never go back till you're the men you want to be.'
Then, lifting up his face and throwing back his head, he said, as if to
himself, 'Jesus! He shall save His people from their sins,' and then,
'Let us pray.'

Graeme leaned forward with his face in his hands; Baptiste and Blaney
dropped on their knees; Sandy, the Campbells, and some others, stood up.
Old man Nelson held his eyes steadily on the minister.

Only once before had I seen that look on a human face. A young fellow
had broken through the ice on the river at home, and as the black water
was dragging his fingers one by one from the slippery edges, there came
over his face that same look. I used to wake up for many a night after
in a sweat of horror, seeing the white face with its parting lips, and
its piteous, dumb appeal, and the black water slowly sucking it down.