And this welcome she had received seemed to be characteristic of all these folks living in the back of beyond. Everywhere she had met friendliness; people had seemed actually eager to help; they smiled as if life had been a thing of joy in which the good things must be distributed far and near and enjoyed by all. They seemed ready to share their possessions with strangers that chanced within their gates. It was a spirit intensely restful, consoling, bringing peace to one's heart. It gave the girl a brief vision of something that was heavenly. She felt that she could so easily have made her home in this amazing region that opened its arms and actually welcomed new faces. But the thought came to her that she had only been vouchsafed a fleeting glance at it and to gaze, as Moses did of old, upon a Promised Land she could never really enter. "It is no need for to h'ask, Monsieur Hugo," Madge heard the woman saying. "Ve do h'all ve can, sure! It ees a gladness to see de yong lady an' heem pretty face, all red vid de cole. Come by de fire, mees. Celestine 'ere she pull aff your beeg Dutch stockin'. Dey no belong you, sure. Colette, push heem chair near for de lady. Hippolyte, put couple steeks now on ze fire. Mees, I 'ope you mak' yourself to home now. Monsieur Hugo, you stop for to h'eat a bite vid us. Ve haf' in de shed still one big quarter from de _orignal_, de beeg mose vat my man he shoot two veeks ago. Und dere pleanty _patates_, pleanty pork, all you vant." "No, thank you ever so much, I--I think I'd better be going. It will be dark pretty soon. I know perfectly well that you will take excellent care of Miss Nelson and so I think I'll say good-by now." Some of the children trooped around him, disappointed, and Mrs. Papineau came nearer, eying him curiously. Suddenly her keen eyes caught something and she pointed with a finger. "Vat de mattaire vid you h'arm?" she asked, excitedly. "'Ow you get 'urted?" "Oh! That! That's nothing," he answered, drawing back. "'Tisn't worth bothering about. Good-night!" "You no be one beeg fool, Monsieur Hugo!" she ordered him, masterfully. "Now you sit down an' let me look heem arm right avay quick. Ven de cole strike heem he get bad sure, dat h'arm." In spite of his objections she laid violent hands on him, insisting on pulling off his coat, whereupon a dark patch had spread. She also drew off the heavy sweater he wore underneath it, which was stained even more deeply. When she sought to roll up the sleeve of his flannel shirt it would not go up high enough, but the remedy was close at hand, in the form of a pair of scissors, and she swiftly ripped up a seam. On the outer part of the shoulder she revealed a rather large and jagged wound that was all smeared with blood, which still oozed from it slowly. "Who go an' shoot you?" she asked angrily. "I see de 'ole in de coat an' de sweater. I know some one shoot. Vat for he shoot?"