"She has far to go," the priest said to himself as he turned to greet
Ingolby with a smile, bright and shy, but gravely reproachful, too.
This happened on the day before the collision between the railway-men and
the river-drivers, and the old priest already knew what trouble was
afoot.
There was little Felix Marchand did which was hidden from him. He made
his way to Ingolby to warn him.
As Ingolby now walked in the woods towards Gabriel Druse's house, he
recalled one striking phrase used by the aged priest in reference to the
closing of the railway offices.
"When you strike your camp, put out the fires," was the aphorism.
Ingolby stopped humming to himself as the words came to his memory again.
Bending his head in thought for a moment, he stood still, cogitating.
"The dear old fellow was right," he said presently aloud with uplifted
head. "I struck camp, but I didn't put out the fires. There's a lot of
that in life."
That is what had happened also to Gabriel Druse and his daughter. They
had struck camp, but had not put out the camp-fires. That which had been
done by the River Starzke came again in its appointed time. The untended,
unguarded fire may spread devastation and ruin, following with angry
freedom the marching feet of those who builded it.
Pages:
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89