"Queer question, isn't it?" The grim humor of it brought a smile, in spite of the lead in Houston's heart. "What is there to do?" "What?" Ba'tiste gulped his food, rose and waved a hand with a sudden flash of emphasis. "Peuff! And there is ever'thin'. You have a mill." "Such as it is." "But eet is a mill. And eet can saw timber--enough to keep the wolf from the door. You have yourself. Your arm, he is near' well. And there is alway'--" he gestured profoundly--"the future. He is like a woman, the future," he added, with a little smile. "He always look good when he is in the far away." The enthusiasm of the trapper found a faint echo in Houston's heart. "I'm not whipped yet, Ba'tiste. But I'm near it. I've had some pretty hard knocks." "Ah, _oui_! But so have Ba'teese!" The shadows were falling, and the old French-Canadian walked to the window. "_Oui, oui, oui_! Look." And he pointed to the white cross, still faintly visible, like a luminous thing, beneath the pines. "Ev' day, Ba'teese, he see that. Ev' day, Ba'teese remember--how he work for others, how he is _L' M'sieu Doctaire_, how he help and help and help--but how he cannot help his own. Ev' day, Ba'teese, he live again that night in the cathedral when he call, so, 'Pierre! Pierre!' But Pierre does not answer. Ev' day, he remind how he come home, and how his heart, eet is cold, but how he hope that his Julienne, she will warm eet again--to fin' that. But does Ba'teese stop? Does Ba'teese fol' his hands? No! No!" He thundered the words and beat his heavy chest. "Some day, Ba'teese will fin' what he look for! When the cloud, he get heavy, Ba'teese, he go out there--out to his Julienne--and he kneel down and he pray that she give to heem the strength to go on--to look and look and look until he find eet--the thing he is want'! Ba'teese, he too have had his trouble. Ba'teese, he too would like to quit! But no, he shall not! And you shall not! By the cross of my Julienne, you shall not! Eet is to the end--and not before! You look like my Pierre! My Pierre had in heem the blood of Ba'teese--Ba'teese, who had broke' the way. And Pierre would not quit, and you will not quit. And--" "I will not quit!" Barry Houston said the words slowly, in a voice heightened by feeling and by a new strength, a sudden flooding of a reserve power that he did not know he possessed. "That is my absolute promise to you, Ba'tiste. I will not quit!" "_Bon_! Good! Golemar, you hear, eh? _Mon ami_, he come to the barrier, and he look at the trouble, but he say he will not quit. _Veritas_! _Bon_! He is my Pierre! He speak like my Pierre would speak! He will not quit!" "No," and then Houston repeated it, a strange light shining in his eyes, his hands clenched, breath pulling deep into his lungs. "I will not quit."