Hudson's Bay Company in the outer wilderness.

Pierre had arrived at the Post three days before, to find a half-breed
trapper and an Indian helpless before the sickness which was hurrying to
close on John Fawdor's heart and clamp it in the vice of death. He had
come just in time. He was now ready to learn, by what ways the future
should show, why this man, of such unusual force and power, should have
lived at a desolate post in Labrador for twenty-five years.

"'This is the portion of them that spoil us, and the lot of them that rob
us--'" Fawdor repeated the words slowly, and then said: "It is good to be
out of the restless world. Do you know the secret of life, Pierre?"

Pierre's fingers unconsciously dropped on the Bible at his side, drumming
the leaves. His eyes wandered over Fawdor's face, and presently he
answered, "To keep your own commandments."

"The ten?" asked the sick man, pointing to the Bible. Pierre's fingers
closed the book. "Not the ten, for they do not fit all; but one by one to
make your own, and never to break--comme ca!"

"The answer is well," returned Fawdor; "but what is the greatest
commandment that a man can make for himself?"

"Who can tell? What is the good of saying, 'Thou shalt keep holy the
Sabbath day,' when a man lives where he does not know the days? What is
the good of saying, 'Thou shalt not steal,' when a man has no heart to
rob, and there is nothing to steal? But a man should have a heart, an eye
for justice. It is good for him to make his commandments against that
wherein he is a fool or has a devil. Justice,--that is the thing."