Page:The trail of the golden horn.djvu/167

Rh door he walked over to the little church. The bell was silent now, for the ringer had already gone into the building. Hugo also entered and sat down on a seat near the door. Old Tom was alone, sitting in his accustomed place. Presently the missionary came from the vestry and began the service. Although Hugo could not understand a word that was being said, he was much impressed. The church was cold, and dimly lighted by two candles. The missionary’s voice was intensely earnest, and a feeling of great respect came into the trapper’s heart as he listened. What wonderful faith the man must have, he mused. How other men would have given up long ago.

And as he watched, he gave a sudden start. A strange light seemed to surround the two worshippers. He rubbed his eyes, thinking that he was mistaken. But, no, the light was there, wonderfully soft, and yet much stronger than that of the candles. It resembled the light which had surrounded the sleeping child that night on the trail. He strained his eyes, half expecting to behold some angel visitants. And as he looked, the light gradually faded, and by the time the service was ended it had disappeared altogether.

Hugo slipped out of the church, and when the missionary returned to his house he found him sitting near the stove.

“Did you have a nice service?” the trapper asked.

“A remarkable one to-night,” was the quiet reply.

“But did you have any congregation? Are not most of the natives away?”

“You are quite right. Tom was the only Indian present, as Kate could not leave Zell. But I was wonderfully inspired at the service to-night. The church seemed to be filled with a great light, and I am certain