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The last of the old French airs was
finished, and the player put his violin away. Jumonville, who had spoken
but little, threw a fresh stick on the fire and looked at the black wall
of circling forest.
"I can never get quite used to it," he said. "The wilderness is so
immense, so menacing that when I am in it at night a little shiver will
come now and then. I suppose our remote ancestors who lived in caves
must have had fear at their elbows all their lives."
"Very likely," said de Courcelles, thoughtfully, staring into the coals.
"It isn't strange that many people have worshiped fire as God. Why
shouldn't they when it brings light in the dark, and lifts up our souls,
when it warms us and makes us feel strong, when it cooks our food and
when in the earlier day it drove away the great wild animals, with
which man was not able to fight on equal terms?"
"I am not one to undervalue fire," said Robert.
"Few of us do in the forest. The night grows chill, but two of our good
Canadians will keep the coals alive until morning.


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