Disclosed in the frame, filling it perpendicularly but sadly lacking in horizontal proportions, stood a gaunt, miner-clad figure, distinguished by a pair of deep-set eyes which burned like living coals and a shock of white hair which waved its freedom when his slouch hat was removed.
"Will you pardon me, stranger; no intrusion meant." The voice was soft and a smile of utmost benignity came into play. "In the midst of life, we are in death."
"The missionary--Moira O'Malley's father and the uncle of the morning's colorful trailmate!" was Seymour's instant thought; but he gave no sign of the presumed recognition.
"Safe enough statement in this camp to-day," he said to his visitor.
"I'm the sky-pilot of these diggings," the other announced in a pulpit voice that rumbled through the hall.
The missionary declined with a shake of his head. "I must hasten on my weekly rounds, distributing lessons from the Word. Won't you accept one of these and promise me to read it?" He held out a small tract taken from a handful which he carried.
The sergeant glanced at the title: "What Shall It Profit a Man----" He smiled tolerantly, thinking what a queer yet lovable character his future life's companion had for a parent.
"It is not meet that we should be seen in conference," O'Malley's voice had been lowered to a whisper; then suddenly it boomed so that all beneath the roof might hear: "I trust you will read that tract, brother--read and profit thereby." And with that, he stalked down the hall as though in search of other needy souls.
Seymour watched him. On getting no answer from the next door, the gaunt frame stooped to slip a tract under it. At another a woman answered his knock and a "sister" was informed that in the midst of life she was in death.
Back in his room, Seymour pondered the single whispered sentence with which the sky pilot varied what evidently were his wonted words when distributing tracts. Had Moira written that he had started for Gold and that he knew more than anyone in the world about the family's Arctic tragedy?
But that was impossible, for he had been able to spend but a moment with the girl when orders came to him at Montreal to report at once to the assistant commissioner in command of "E" Division at Vancouver. Seymour himself had not known then that he would eventually arrive in plain clothes at her father's mission station.