buffalo as they stampeded from the hunters; and also in the Winter time,
when frost was master and blizzard and drift its malignant servants.

Even yet his work was not done. In the town of Manitou he still said
mass now and then, and heard the sorrows and sins of men and women, and
gave them "ghostly comfort," while priests younger than himself took the
burden of parish-work from his shoulders.

For a lifetime he had laboured among the Indians and the few whites and
squaw-men and half-breeds, with neither settlement nor progress. Then,
all at once, the railway; and people coming from all the world, and
cities springing up! Now once more he was living the life of
civilization, exchanging raw flesh of fish and animals and a meal of
tallow or pemmican for the wheaten loaf; the Indian tepee for the warm
house with the mansard roof; the crude mass beneath the trees for the
refinements of a chancel and an altar covered with lace and white linen.

A flock of geese went honking over his head. His eyes smiled in memory
of the countless times he had watched such flights, had seen thousands
of wild ducks hurrying down a valley, had watched a family of herons
stretching away to some lonely water-home. And then another sound
greeted his ear. It was shrill, sharp and insistent. A great serpent
was stealing out of the East and moving down upon Lebanon. It gave
out puffs of smoke from its ungainly head. It shrieked in triumph as
it came. It was the daily train from the East, arriving at the Sagalac
River.

"These things must be," he said aloud as he looked. While he lost
himself again in reminiscence, a young man came driving across the
plains, passing beneath where he stood. The young man's face and figure