“I neglect it when I’m on the trail,” said Amesbury. “My father was a preacher. He always said grace at home, and it’s second nature to me to do it when I sit at a table. Part of eating. We mustn’t forget, you know, that we owe what we have to a higher Power, and we shouldn’t forget to give thanks.” “That’s what Dad would be sayin’, now.” Dan had admired Amesbury before, but this comparison of him with his father was the highest compliment he could have paid him, and indicated the highest regard for his friend. “I’ll tell you, chaps, my theory of the way the Lord gives us our blessings. He gives us eyes and hands and feet, and best of all He gives us brains with which to reason things out. Then He provides the land with all its products, the birds and animals and forests. He gives us the sea with its products, too. He intends that we use our brains in devising methods of applying the products of earth and sea to our needs, and to use our hands and feet and eyes to carry out what our brain tells us how to do. If I hadn’t used my eyes and hands and feet the Lord never would have put this venison on the table.” “That’s just what Dad says,” agreed Dan. “He says they ain’t no use prayin’ for things when they’s a way t’ get un yourself.” “Your dad’s right. If you chaps had just spent your time praying when you went adrift on that ice pan, you’d be at the bottom of Hudson Bay now. Yes, your dad’s right. Thank the Lord for the things that come your way, but get up and hustle first, or they won’t come your way. Use your brains and your hands. That’s the thing to do.” Supper finished, Amesbury and Ahmik cut tobacco from black plugs, filled their pipes; Amesbury whittled some long shavings from a stick of dry wood, lighted an end of a shaving by pushing it through the stove vent, and applied it to his pipe; Ahmik followed his example, and then turned his attention to washing dishes. Puffing contentedly at his pipe, Amesbury lifted the violin from its case, settled himself before the stove and began tuning the instrument. “I likes t’ hear fiddlin’ wonderful well,” remarked Dan. “That’s good, for I’m going to fiddle. Do you like it, too, Densmore?” “I’m very fond of music.” “Then, no one objecting, I’ll begin.” Amesbury began playing very softly. Dan sat in open-mouthed wonder, eyes wide, and scarcely breathing. Paul was enthralled. It was a master hand that held the bow. The player himself seemed quite unconscious of his listeners and surroundings. The wrinkles smoothed out of the corners of his eyes, the alert twinkle left the eyes and a soft, dreamy expression came into them, as though they beheld some beautiful vision. He seemed transfigured as Paul looked at him. Another being had taken the place of the ungainly, rough-clad trapper. For a full hour he played. Then laying his violin across his knees sat silent for a little. The music had cast a spell upon them. Even Ahmik, who had seated himself near the table, had let his pipe die out.