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Only once before had I seen that look on a human face. A young fellow had broken through the ice on the river at home, and as the black water was dragging his fingers one by one from the slippery edges, there came over his face that same look. I used to wake up for many a night after in a sweat of horror, seeing the white face with its parting lips and its piteous, dumb appeal, and the black water slowly sucking it down.

Nelson’s face brought it all back; but during the prayer the face changed and seemed to settle into resolve of some sort, stern, almost gloomy, as of a man with his last chance before him.

After the prayer Mr. Craig invited the men to a Christmas dinner next day in Black Rock. “And because you are an independent lot, we’ll charge you half a dollar for dinner and the evening show.” Then leaving a bundle of magazines and illustrated papers on the table–a godsend to the men–he said good-by and went out.

I was to go with the minister, so I jumped into the sleigh first and waited while he said good-by to Graeme, who had been hard hit by the whole service and seemed to want to say something. I heard Mr. Craig say cheerfully and confidently: “It’s a true bill: try Him.”

Sandy, who had been steadying Dandy while that interesting broncho was attempting with great success to balance himself on his hind legs, came to say good-by.

“Come and see me first thing, Sandy.”

“Aye! I know; I’ll see ye, Mr. Craig,” said Sandy earnestly as Dandy dashed off at a full gallop across the clearing and over the bridge, steadying down when he reached the hill.

“Steady, you idiot!”

This was to Dandy, who had taken a sudden side spring into the deep snow, almost upsetting us. A man stepped out from the shadow. It was old man Nelson. He came straight to the sleigh and, ignoring my presence completely, said:

“Mr. Craig, are you dead sure of this? Will it work?”

“Do you mean,” said Craig, taking him up promptly, “can Jesus Christ save you from your sins and make a man of you?”

The old man nodded, keeping his hungry eyes on the other’s face.

“Well, here’s His message to you: ‘The Son of Man is come to seek and to save that which was lost.'”

“To me? To me?” said the old man eagerly.

“Listen; this, too, is His word: ‘Him that cometh unto Me I will in no wise cast out.’ That’s for you, for here you are, coming.”

“You don’t know me, Mr. Craig. I left my baby fifteen years ago because—-“

“Stop!” said the minister. “Don’t tell me, at least not to-night; perhaps never. Tell Him who knows it all now and who never betrays a secret. Have it out with Him. Don’t be afraid to trust Him.”

Nelson looked at him, with his face quivering, and said in a husky voice:

“If this is no good, it’s hell for me.”

“If it is no good,” replied Craig almost sternly, “it’s hell for all of us.”

The old man straightened himself up, looked up at the stars, then back at Mr. Craig, then at me, and drawing a deep breath said:

“I’ll try Him.” As he was turning away the minister touched him on the arm and said quietly:

“Keep an eye on Sandy to-morrow.”

Nelson nodded and we went on; but before we took the next turn I looked back and saw what brought a lump into my throat. It was old man Nelson on his knees in the snow, with his hands spread upward to the stars, and I wondered if there was any One above the stars and nearer than the stars who could see. And then the trees hid him from my sight.