280 THE DRAMA OF THE FORESTS 



tion. But on only one occasion did I ever see a worshipper 

 there. 



Weary from the weight of a heavy pack seventy-five 

 pounds of dynamite I had paused to rest a moment in that 

 wonderful place which so few human beings had ever discovered ; 

 where, too, on passing through, it was always my custom to 

 remove my hat just as any one would do on entering a 

 church. There that day, as I stood gazing at the glorious 

 sunbeams as they filtered through the great chancel window, 

 I listened to the enchanting music of the feathered choir high 

 overhead, that seemed to be singing to the accompaniment of 

 one of Nature's most powerful organs the roaring river that 

 thundered aloud, as, with all its force, it wildly rolled huge 

 boulders down its rocky bed. Then, lowering my eyes, I dis- 

 covered the one and only worshipper I ever saw there. He was 

 standing near a side aisle in the shadow of an alcove, and he, 

 too, was gazing up at those radiant sunbeams and listening to 

 the choir; moreover, notwithstanding that he was a big brown 

 bear, he appeared too devout even to notice me perhaps be- 

 cause he, too, felt the holy presence of "The Great Mystery" 

 . . . our God. 



Yes, my friend, it is my belief that if there is any place on 

 earth that is "God-forsaken," it is not to be found in even 

 the wildest part of the wildest wilderness, but in that cesspool 

 called a city. 



GOING TO THE POST 



After half of May had passed away, and when the spring 

 hunt was over, Oo-koo-hoo and Amik, poling up the turbulent 

 little streams, and following as closely as possible the routes 

 of their fur trails, went the round of their trapping paths, re- 

 moved their snares, sprung their deadfalls, and gathering their 

 steel traps loaded them aboard their canoes. That work com- 



