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- 



