“A big business that,” said French.

“Yes,” replied Brown, “there are two agencies that will do it.”

“Namely.”

“The school and the Church.”

“Oh, yes, that’s all right, I guess,” losing interest in the discussion.

“That’s my game too,” said Brown with increasing eagerness.  “That’s my idea,—­the school and the Church.  You say the big things are ranches, railroads, and mills.  So they are.  But the really big things are the things that give us our ideas and our ideals, and those are the school and the Church.  But, I say, you will be wanting to turn in.  You wait a minute and I’ll make your bed.”

“Bed?  Nonsense!” said French.  “Your tent floor is all right.  I’ve been twenty years in this country, and Kalman is already an old timer, so don’t you start anything.”

“Might as well be comfortable,” said Brown cheerfully.  “I have a great weakness for comfort.  In fact, I can’t bear to be uncomfortable.  I live luxuriously.  I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He disappeared behind a bluff and came back in a short time with a large bundle of swamp-grass, which he speedily made into a very comfortable bed.

“Now then,” he said cheerfully, “there you are.  Have you any objection to prayers?  It is a rule of this camp to have prayers night and morning, especially if any strangers happen along.  I like to practise on them, you know.”

French nodded gravely.  “Good idea.  I can’t say it is common in this country.”

Brown brought out two hymn books and passed one to French, stirred up the fire to a bright blaze, and proceeded to select a hymn.  Suddenly he turned to Kalman.  “I say, my boy, do you read?”

“Sure thing!  You bet!” said Kalman indignantly.

“Educated, you see,” said French apologetically.  “Street University, Winnipeg.”

“That’s all right, boy.  I’ll get you a book for yourself.  We have lots of them.  Now, French, you select.”

“Oh, me?  You better go on.  I don’t know your book.”

“No, sir,” said Brown emphatically.  “You have got to select, and you have got to read too.  Rule of the camp.  True, I didn’t feed you, but then—­I hesitate to speak of it—­perhaps you remember that mixture.”

“Do I?  Oh, well, certainly, if you put it that way,” said French.  “Let’s see, all the old ones are here.  Suppose we make it a good old-fashioned one.  How will this do?” He passed the book to Brown.

“Just the thing,” said Brown. “‘Nearer, my God, to Thee.’  Can you find it, Kalman?”

“Why, cert,” said Kalman.

French glanced apologetically at Brown.

“Recently caught,” he explained, “but means no harm.”

Brown nodded.

“Proceed with the reading,” he said.

French laid down his pipe, took off his hat, Kalman following his example, and began to read.  Instinctively, as he read, his voice took a softer modulation than in ordinary speech.  His manner, too, became touched with reverent dignity.  His very face seemed to grow finer.  Brown sat listening, with his face glowing with pleasure and surprise.