“He’s carrying on.  Oh, yes.”  Father Adam paused.  Then he went on quickly.  “You don’t know him yet.  But I think you will.  He’s out on the coast of Labrador.  He’s driving his great purpose with all his force through the agency of a groundwood mill that would fill your Skandinavia folk with envy and alarm if they saw it.  He’s master of forests such as would break your heart when compared with these of your Skandinavia.  His name’s Sternford.  Bull Sternford, of Sachigo.”

At the mention of Sachigo, Nancy’s eyes widened.  Then she laughed.  It was a laugh of real amusement.

“Why, that’s queer.  It’s—­I’m going right on there from here.  I’m going to meet this very man, Sternford.  They tell me I’ve just time to get there and pull out again for home before winter freezes them up solid.  So he is this great man, with this great—­notion.  Tell me, what is he like?”

“Oh, he’s a big, strong man, as ready to laugh as to fight.”

Father Adam smiled, and stooped over the fire to push the attenuated sticks of it together.

“May I ask why you’re going to Sachigo?” he asked, without looking up.

Just for a moment Nancy hesitated.  Then she laughed happily.

“I don’t see why you shouldn’t,” she cried.  “There’s no secret.  Skandinavia intends to buy him, or crush him.”

The man sat up.

“And you—­a girl—­are the emissary?”

Incredulity robbed the man of the even calmness of’ his manner.

“Yes.  Why not?”

The challenge in the girls’s eyes was unmistakable.

“You won’t buy him,” Father Adam said quietly.  “And you certainly won’t crush him.”

“Because I’m a girl?”

“Oh, no.  I was thinking of the Skandinavia.”  The man shook his head.  “If I’m a judge of men, the crushing will be done from the other end of the line.”

“This man will crush Skandinavia?”

The idea that Skandinavia could be crushed was quite unthinkable to Nancy.  It was the great monopoly of the country.  It was—­but she felt that this lonely creature could have no real understanding of the power of her people.

“Surely,” he returned quietly.  “But that,” he added, with a return of his pleasant smile, “is just the notion of one man.  I should say it’s no real account.  Yes, you go there.  You see this man.  The battle of your people with him matters little.  It will be good for you to see him.  It—­may help you.  Who can tell?  He’s a white man, and a fighter.  He’s honest and clean.  It’s—­in the meeting of kindred spirits that the great events of life are brought about.  It should be good for you both.”

“I wonder?” Nancy rose from her chair.

The man rose also.

“I think so,” he said, very decidedly.

The girl laughed.

“I hope so.  But—­” She held out her hand.  “Thank you, Father,” she said.  “I’ll never be able to think of the things I’m set on achieving without remembering our talk—­and the man I met in the forest.  I wish—­but what’s the use?  I’ve got to make good.  I must.  I must go on, and—­do the thing I see.  Good-bye.”